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AIDS TO 

CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE 

ELOCUTION 



WITH 



Selected Readings and Recitations 



^Ilv^ 



FOR PRACTICE. 



BY t/ 

ELEANOR O'GRADY, 

Author of ll Select Recitations" etc. 



V 




NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO: 

BENZIGER BROTHERS, 

Printers to the Holy Apostolic See. 
1890. 



OH" 



Copyright, 1890, 

BY 

Benziger Brothers. 



PREFACE. 



The lessons and exercises given in this book 
have long been used by us in manuscript form. 

They are now published for the convenience 
of our own pupils and the benefit of others. 

The knowledge contained in " Aids to Correct 
and Effective Elocution" has been drawn from 
many sources and tested by actual use for years 
among our numerous pupils. 

Its teachings will be found to be in harmony 
with those of the best authorities on the art of 
expression. 

The Readings and Recitations have all been 
chosen on account of their suitability for elocu- 
tionary practice. Those that are not of high lit- 
erary merit have recommended themselves to us 
by the scope they give for vocal and physical 
expression. 



CONTENTS. 



AIDS TO CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

PAGE 

Preface, 3 

Gesture, 7 

The Head, 10 

The Face, 11 

The Hand, 12 

The Elbow, 14 

Carriage of the Body, 14 

Walking, 15 

Bowing, 16 

To Seat One's Self, 17 

Breathing, 17 

The Voice 19 

Pitch, . 19 

Force, 20 

King Henry the Second at the Tomb of King Ar- 
thur, .... Aubrey de Vere, . 21 

Quality 24 

Pitch, Force, and Quality, 24 

Time, . 24 

Stress, 25 

On the Use of the Six Kinds of Stress, ... 26 

England's Treatment of Ireland, William & Gladstone, 26 

The Seminole's Defiance, G. W. Patten, . . 28 

A Forest Hymn, . . William Gullen Bryant, 30 

The Chameleon . . . James Merrick, . 33 

Scene from King John, . Shakespeare, . . 35 

Battle of Hohenlinden, . Campbell, . . 42 

Transitions 43 

Pausing, 44 



vi CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Tones and Articulations, 44 

Vowels and Consonants, 45 

Pronunciation, 46 

English Phonetic Elements, 47 

Slides, 50 

Picturing, 51 



SELECTED READINGS AND RECITATIONS FOR 
PRACTICE. 

Scene from Taming of the Shrew, Shakespeare, . . 53 
The Monk's Magnificat, . . E. Nesbit, . . . 57 
Scene from Othello, . . . Shakespeare, . . 62 
Mabel Martin, .... WMttier, ... 64 
The King's Daughters, . Margaret Vandergrift, 69 

The Judgment of St. Pancratius, Aubrey de Vere, . 112 

The Golden Bridge, George T. Lanigan, in " The Century" 74 

The Ballad of the Stranger, 76 

Bridge of Sighs, . . . Hood, ... 81 
De Profundis, .... Mrs. Browning, . 85 

The Face against the Pane, . T. B. Aldrich, . . 89 

The Game Knut Played, 92 

The Romance of the Swan's Nest, Mrs. Browning, . 96 
A Message, .... " Scribner's Monthly." 100 

Washington, .... Charles Phillips, . 102 
"Persevere," . . . . John Brougham, . 104 
The Chambered Nautilus, . Oliver W. Holmes, . 106 

Charondas, .... Louise Imogen Guiney, 108 

America's Debt to France, . Frederic B. Couderi, . 110 
Harmosan, .... Bichard C. Trench, . 112 

The Raven, .... Edgar A. Poe, . . 114 
Money Musk, .... Benjamin F. Taylor, . 121 
The Bell of Atri, . . . Longfellow, . . 125 

The Lifeboat, .... George B. Sims, . . 129 
Courtship of Henry the Fifth, Shakespeare, . .134 

Daisies, " Songs in the Night," '. 138 

The Death of D'Assas, Mary E. Vandyne, in (l Good Cheer, " 142 
Jacques Dufour, . . . William W. Howe, . 147 
The Sirens, Margaret E. Sangster, in " Good Cheer," 151 



CONTENTS. 


vii 






PAGE 


The Convict Ship, . 


Mrs. Ann T. Stephens 


, 154 


The Lady of Castlenore, . 


T. B. Aldrich, . 


. 161 


The King and the Child, . 


Eugene J. Hall, . 


. 164 


The Children's Crusade (With 






Music), .... 


Longfellow, 


. 166 


Heliotrope, . . . From " Acta Columbiana,' 


' 173 


The Last Ride, 


Mary A. P. Stansbury 


, 175 


The Galley Slave, . 


Henry Abbey, 


181 


The Sea Breeze and the Scarf, 


Ella WJieeler Wilcox, 


183 


The Mantle of St. John de Matha, Whittier, 


184 


Sleep, 


Mrs. Browning, . 


187 


The Legend of St. Mark, 


Whittier, 


189 


Scenes from King Richard III., 


Shakespeare, 


. 191 


Mother and Poet, 


Mrs. Browning, . 


201 


Scene in a Tenement House, . 




205 


The Female Martyr, . 


Wliittier, . 


209 


Pancratius, .... 


Eleanor C. Donnelly, 


212 


Catherine and Griffith, 


Shakespeare, 


216 


Gualberto's Victory, 


Eleanor C. Donnelly, 


218 


Queen Archidamia, . 




222 


Prologue to Cato, 


Pope, . 


225 


Cato's Senate, .... 


Addison, 


226 


The Battle of Waterloo, . 


Byron, 


233 


The Bridal of Malahide. . 


Gerald Griffin, . 


235 


The Mourners 


E. Cooke, . 


238 


An Order for a Picture, . 


Alice Cary, 


240 


The Rosary of My Tears, 


Father Ryan, 


244 


Labor, 


Tlwmas Carlyle, . 


245 


The Rustic Bridal, . 


Longfellow, . 


246 


The Bravest Battle that ever was 






Fought, .... 


Joaquin Miller, • 


252 


The Wives of Weinsberg, 


Gottfried August Burger, 


253 


Little Joe, .... 


Jennie Woodville 


256 


The Merchant and the Book- Agent, 


268 


Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby, 


Joel Chandler Harris, . 


271 


A Battle of Words, . 


Richard R. Madden, . 


279 


Sam Weller's Valentine,. 


Dickens, 


283 


The Indians and the Mustard, 




289 


Caudle's Wedding Day, . 


Douglas Jerrold, 


291 



Vlll 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

A Modest Wit, 296 

Hiring a Cook, .... TJieodore Hook, . . 298 

Mme. Eef 302 

Sermon, .... Portsmouth (Eng.) Monitor, 304 

Teddy's Six Bulls, 308 

A Railway Matinee, . . . R. J. Burdette, . .310 

Uncle Reuben's Baptism, 314 

The Yellow Domino, 319 

Miss Edith Helps Things Along, B. Harte, . . .322 
The Bachelor's Dream, . . Hood, . . . 324 

Half- Way Doin's, . . . Irwin Russell, . . 328 
The Rail-Road Crossing, . . Hezekiah Strong, . 330 
The Grand Imposition Hotel, . Marietta Holley, . 332 

From the Honeymoon, . . John Tobin, . . 342 
John Gilpin's Ride, . . . William Cowper, . 347 
A Profitable Shot, . . . George A. Sala, . 356 

Lady Clare, .... Tennyson, . . . 360 
The Taming of Bucephalus, . Park Benjamin, . 363 

Anne Hathaway, 366 

The Inquiry, .... Charles Mackay, . 367 
The Launching of the Ship . Longfellow, . . 369 
High Tide on the Coast of Lin- 
colnshire (With Music), . Jean Ingelow, . . 371 
Bell of Zanora, . . W. R. Rose, . . 378 



AIDS 

TO 

CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 



GESTURE. 

Gesture is a universal language. 

It is usually defined as the various postures 
and motions of the body. 

"We would define gesture as tlie body's attempt 
to give expression to the thought. 

All laws for gesture must rest upon the primary 
one of Correspondence. 

Gestures, or movements of the body, should be 
made with precision, ease, and harmony — in a 
word, with grace. 

Although grace is defined as the union of ease, 
precision, and harmony, the student is cautioned 
against bringing any one of these into undue 
prominence. 

We have seen ease degenerate into vulgarity, 
precision into pedantry, and harmony into affec- 
tation. 

Gesture must always precede speech. The 
sense is not in the words ; it is in the inflection 
and gesture. 

Let as much expression as possible be given to 
7 



8 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

the face. A gesture made by the hand is wrong 
when not justified in advance by the face. 

Gestures should not be multiplied; we are 
moved by only one sentiment at a time : hence 
it is useless to multiply gestures. 

The lines of gesture whether referring to ob- 
jects or ideas are identical. 

As gesture is a muscular movement, all the 
directions to gain flexibility should be carefully 
followed and the exercises faithfully practised. 

Delaumosne gives six laws of gesture, viz. : Pri- 
ority, Betroaction, The Opposition of Agents, Unity, 
Stability, and Rhythm. 

Priority. — This law should be carefully ob- 
served. The expression of the face should pre- 
cede gesture, and gesture should precede speech. 

Retroaction. — This law is founded upon the 
fact that " every object of agreeable or disagree- 
able aspect which surprises us makes the body 
recoil. The degree of reaction should be propor- 
tionate to the degree of emotion caused by the 
sight of the object." 

The Opposition of Agents. — This law teaches 
that " simultaneous movement must be made in 
opposition." Successive movement should be 
parallel. It is the law of equilibrium. In ancient 
art this law is always observed. 

Unity. — This law has relation to the number 
of gestures. Delaumosne says : " There must 
be unity in everything ; but a role may be con- 
densed in two or three traits ; therefore a great 
number of gestures is not necessary. Let it be 



GESTURE. 9 

carefully noted : the expression of the face 
should make the gesture of the arms forgotten." 

Stability. — This law refers to the duration of 
gesture. The suspension or prolongation of 
movement is one of the great sources of effect. 

Khythm. — This law teaches that gesture is 
rhythmic through its movement, more or less 
slow, or more or less rapid. 

" The rhythm of gesture is proportional to the 
mass to be moved." This law is based upon 
the vibration of the pendulum. Great levers 
have slow movements, small agents more rapid 
ones. 

" In proportion to the depth and majesty of 
the emotion is the deliberation and slowness 
of the motion ; and, vice versa, in proportion to 
the superficiality and explosiveness of the emotion 
will be the velocity of its expression in motion" 

To facilitate expression we give a system of no- 
tation similar to that invented and used by Mr. 
Austin in his " Chironomia," published in 1806, 
and than which no better work on the technique 
of gesture has since appeared : 

d.f., descending front. p., prone. 

d. o., descending oblique, v., vertical. 

d. I., descending lateral. i. Or ind., index finger. 

d. o. b., descending oblique upl., uplifted, 

backwards. par., parallel. 

h.f., horizontal front. cli., clinched. 

h. o., horizontal oblique. da., clasped. 

h. I., horizontal lateral. ap., applied. 



10 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

h. o. b., horizontal oblique fol., folded. 

backwards. cm, crossed. 

r. h., right hand. prep., preparation. 

I. h., left hand. rep., repeat. 

b. h., both hands. sits., sustained. 

s., supine. tr., tremor. 



THE HEAD. 

The head should be well balanced, and held 
midway between the shoulders. 

EXERCISES. 

The following exercises should be practised at 
first very slowly. The aim of all such exercises 
is to enable the physical nature, the more readily 
and correctly, to express the mental and emo- 
tional. 

1st. Holding the head easily erect, turn it, very 
slowly, to the right, then to the left. 

2d. Bend the head forward until the chin rests 
upon the chest. 

3d. Bend the head backward as far as possible. 
Care must be taken not to stretch the neck 
muscles too powerfully. 

4th. Turn the head right oblique ; hold it there 
while turning the face downward, then upward. 
Bend the head backward; hold it there while 
turning the face right, then left. 

The head is bowed in shame. 
It droops in sorrow. 
It is crouched in fear. 



GESTURE. 11 

It is set backward in pride. 

It bends forward in assent. 

It bends slightly in reflection. 

It shows negation by a horizontal movement 
from side to side. 

It expresses melancholy by inclining down- 
ward to the left side. 

THE FACE. 

The face leads in expression. 

The face should reflect or mirror the sentiment 
to be expressed. It expands in joy, contracts in 
pain, and is elongated in sorrow. Of the face the 
eye is generally considered the most expressive 
feature. Interest in an object is expressed by fix- 
ing the eyes upon it; indifference, by averting 
them, or turning them, after a glance, away. In 
reflection, meditation, thoughtful consideration, 
and self-examination, the eyelids close over the 
ball in a greater or less degree, in accordance 
with the depth of the thoughtful consideration or 
the strictness of the self-examination. The eyes 
express depreciation of an object by first glanc- 
ing askance at it, and then partly closing. 

Although the eye is usually considered the 
most expressive feature of the face, close obser- 
vation will convince that it really needs the ex- 
pressions or gestures of the mouth and nose, and 
sometimes also of the upper part of the face, the 
forehead and eyebrows, to translate its language. 

The eye may be said to lead the face in ex- 
pression as it indicates. To express disdain and 



12 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

disgust it needs the assistance of the nose and 
mouth. 

To express astonishment the eyes are wide open 
and the brows raised. Perplexity in thought is 
expressed by a slight frown. All aggressive ges- 
tures are accompanied by the knitting of the 
brows. The eyes are raised to express faith, 
hope, and love. They are cast down in modesty. 

THE HAND. 

The hand with the aid of the face can express 
every mood, translate every language. 

The hand is an assistant to the expression the 
face has already given. In a proper .carriage of 
the hand the fingers group themselves thus : the 
two middle fingers are held together slightly bent 
inwards. The index-finger and the little finger 
are separated slightly from the two middle fingers, 
the index nearly straight, the little finger slightly 
curved. The thumb is held nearly on a line with 
the index-finger. 

The clinched hand signifies conflict. 

The hand closed with the thumb at the side of 
the first finger signifies power. 

The hand partly opened from the clinched fist, 
with the fingers somewhat apart and the first 
joint bent, signifies a convulsive state. Execration 
is expressed in the same manner, only the hand 
is more opened. 

The hand opened to full extent expresses ex- 
altation. The hand opened to full extent with 
the fingers wide apart signifies exasperation. 



GESTURE 13 

We use the tips of the fingers when illustrating 
fine distinctions or urging nice critical points. 
The hand prone expresses superposition — one 
thing placed on or lying upon another. 

While the supine hand expresses the naked 
truth, the prone clothes the thought with some 
repressive emotion, as grief, sadness, or any sen- 
timent of a grave, solemn, and subdued character. 

The supine hand permits, the prone rejects ; 
the supine impels, the prone restrains. 

The supine is open, frank, genial ; the prone 
is aversive. The supine hand indicates nearness ; 
the prone, distance. 

Directive gestures are necessary when the 
words Lof yonder, this, that, behold/ etc., are 
used. 

In gesticulation it is of vital importance that 
the ivhole arm initiate the movement. Perfect relax- 
ation of the muscles of the arm should precede 
this initial movement. 

EXERCISES. 

1st. Kelax the muscles of the arms, then turn 
the trunk of the body, letting the arms flop right 
and left. Extend the right arm horizontal front. 
Move the hand (vertically) up and down ; move 
it horizontally right and left. 

2d. Kotate the arm. Kotate the hand, the 
centre of motion being the elbow. 

The above exercises should be practised until 
the student has acquired flexibility of the muscles. 



14 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Without flexibility there can be no grace of ges- 
ture. 

THE ELBOW. 

" The elbow turned outward signifies strength, 
power, audacity, domination, arrogance, abrupt- 
ness, activity. The elbow drawn inward signifies 
impotence, fear, subordination, humility, passive- 
ness, poverty of spirit." 

CARRIAGE OE THE BODY. 

An easy and correct bearing is of the first im- 
portance. 

Care should be taken to hold the abdomen in, 
the chest up, and the shoulders backward and 
downward. 

The carriage or bearing of the speaker should 
correspond to and be in harmony with the senti- 
ment he is uttering. 

EXERCISES. 

The following exercises should be practised 
until the pupil is able to " stand still with ease 
and move with grace :" 

1st. Stand easily erect, with the weight of the 
body resting equally upon the feet. Carefully 
hold the abdomen up by the muscles of the 
thorax and the back, and in by the abdominal 
muscles. 

2d. With the weight of the body resting upon 
either hip, carry the leg that is then free forward 
with the knee slightly bent. 

3d. Standing in the first position, place one foot 
behind, resting the weight upon it, then bend 



GESTURE. 15 

the backward knee until it rests upon the floor. 
Incline the trunk of the body forward and the 
head backward. To rise, shift the weight of the 
body to the advanced leg. 

WALKING. 

In walking, the ball of the foot should meet 
the ground first. 

Ladies can walk with or without heels provided 
they have learned to walk. 

No shoes which interfere with the hinge-like 
movement necessary in good walking should be 
worn. 

" The elastic step of youth," of which poets 
love to sing, is really the step of every lady, old 
or young, who has acquired the difficult art of 
walking. 

To walk well one must first breathe ivell. 

The chest should be held high and the abdo- 
men drawn backward. If the chest is held high, 
the shoulders will naturally fall backward and 
downward. If too much effort be made to draw 
the shoulders backward and downward, one is 
apt to throw the abdomen outward. 

In walking, the legs should swing from the hip- 
joints — or, to speak more elegantly, " the impulse 
should be given from the thigh," and the toes be 
turned slightly outward. 

EXERCISES. 

1st. Standing in the first position (i.e., with 
the heels together and the weight of the body 



16 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

resting equally upon the feet), lift the right leg 
and swing it from the hip-joint. 

2d. Standing upon the right foot, practise 
the same with the left leg. 

3d. Standing in the first position, rise slowly 
upon the toes, then resume first position. 

4th. Advance right foot and practise hinge- 
like movement with left. 

5th. Advance left foot and practise hinge-like 
movement with right. 

BOWING. 

The bow, which has taken the place of the 
deep courtesy, is made by an inclination of the 
body from the ankles, and signifies " I am at your 
service." 

The courtesy — which is still used in our acade- 
mies — is made by putting one foot behind, rest- 
ing the weight upon it, and then bending the 
backward knee (the forward will bend also), at 
the same time relaxing the muscles of the up- 
per part of the body, and bowing the head. In 
drawing up the form and returning to position, 
the movement should be very slow, as this kind 
of bow signifies reverence. Bowing, kneeling, 
and seating one's self with grace are accom- 
plished by observing the law of poise, or " Oppo- 
sition of Agents." The law consists in placing 
the acting levers in opposition, and thus realiz- 
ing equilibrium. And as Delaumosne says most 
truly, " All that is in equilibrium is harmo- 
nized." 



GESTURE. 17 

"We should make our bow tc the audience be- 
fore, not while, uttering the title of our Beading 
or Recitation. 

TO SEAT ONE'S SELF*. 

Standing in the first position before a seat, 
place one foot backward and courtesy into the 
seat. Carefully observe that the feet bear the 
weight of the body until it reaches the seat. 

To rise, press upon the feet. The natural im- 
pulse is to assist one's self with the hands ; 
this must be avoided. 

BREATHING. 

As voice is formed by the breath setting in 
vibration the lips of the glottis, it follows that 
the management of the breath is of the first im- 
portance. 

As all the air entering the lungs and all the 
breath leaving them must pass through the 
larynx, inspiration and expiration must alternate. 

In deep breathing the cavity within the chest 
is increased by the descent of the diaphragm, 
also by the expansion of the ribs. 

In inspiration the abdomen slightly protrudes. 
In expiration the abdomen falls inward. 

When the lungs are entirely filled they will 
be found to expand the back as well as the chest. 

All impediments to free respiration are to be 
avoided. The throat, chest, and abdomen must be 
left free action. 



18 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. , 

When the lungs are kept well supplied with air 
vocal efforts are healthy and unfatiguing. 

In reading and reciting, the pupil is cau- 
tioned against allowing the lungs to become 
exhausted. We most earnestly recommend a 
" silent pause" to replenish them — or rather, to 
allow the atmospheric pressure to do so. 

The tendency to drop the voice at the end of 
each line in poetry is often the result of neg- 
lecting this "silent pause." In effective and 
expressive reading and recitation silence is in- 
deed golden. 

Respiration should be inaudible. 

We have two channels for respiration, the 
nostrils and the mouth. 

Audible respiration is caused by a contrac- 
tion of these air passages. 

It is a disputed point as to which of the chan- 
nels for respiration should be preferred. We rec- 
ommend both, if the organs be in a perfectly 
sound and healthy condition, and the atmosphere 
pure. Should the student be delicate, or the at- 
mosphere impure, we advise inhaling through 
the nostrils — which have been called " nature's 
filter." 

EXERCISES. 

1st. Deep Breathing. — Place the hands upon 
the hips. Exhaust the lungs, then fill them very 
slowly and thoroughly, retain the breath a short 
time, and then as slowly emit it. 

2d. Inflate the lungs, then empty them sud- 
denly, giving the sound of the aspirate h. 



THE VOICE. 19 



THE VOICE. 



The human voice is the most wonderful of all 
musical instruments, and the most satisfactorily 
expressive when " the soul attunes the instrument 
to the theme." The voice has three properties 
— Pitch, Force, and Quality; and it is to the culti- 
vation of these three properties of the voice that 
the best efforts of the student should be directed. 

Indeed, in a technical training of the voice, all 
the artifices of the Elocutionist are founded upon 
the three properties of the voice, Pitch, Force, and 
Quality. What the elder Garcia said of the sing- 
ing voice — "Its beauty constitutes ninety-nine 
hundredths of the power of the singer'' — is 
equally true of the speaking voice. For this 
reason we disapprove of giving to young students 
recitations requiring certain faulty qualities of the 
voice. The aim of the teacher of vocal culture 
should be to preserve ind improve the natural 
beauty of the voice. L'Abbe Delaumosne says: 
" It is through the voice we please an audience. 
If we have the ear of an auditor, we easily win 
his mind and heart. The voice is a mysterious 
hand which touches, envelops, and caresses the 
heart." 

PITCH. 

Pitch relates to the elevation or depression of 
the voice. 

For direction five degrees of Pitch are distin- 



20 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

guished: Very Low, Loiv, Middle, High, and Very 
High. Although but five degrees of pitch are 
given for direction in Elocution, the student will 
note that " the degrees range through the entire 
compass of the voice." 

Middle Pitch is used in unimpassioned styles. 

High Pitch is employed to express exultation, 
joy, etc. 

Very High Pitch is used to express the extremes 
of joy and grief, and is employed in calling. 

Low Pitch expresses solemnity, awe, reverence, 
and sorrow. 

Very Low Pitch expresses extreme awe, solem- 
nity, reverence, dread, etc. 

A harmony of pitch must be maintained be- 
tween closely related parts of a sentence, such 
as subject and verb, verb and object, especially 
when they are separated by intervening clauses. 

FORCE. 

Force relates to the degree of energy with 
which a sound is given. 

For direction in Elocution five degrees of Force 
are given : Weak, Subdued, Moderate, Energetic, and 
Vehement. The following recitation, " King Henry 
the Second at the Tomb of King Arthur," is an 
excellent exercise on Force. The first part is 
given with Moderate Force ; Energetic Force 
is used in the fourth verse ; Vehement in the 
fifth ; while the concluding verses are given with 
Subdued and Weak, or Gentle, Force. 



THE VOICE. 21 

KING HENEY THE SECOND AT THE TOMB OP 
KING ARTHUR. 

The tourney past, in festival 

Baron and knight were met : 
Last pomp it was that graced the hall 

Of great Plantagenet ; 
A Prince for valor praised by all, 

More famed for wisdom yet. 

The board rang loud with kingly cheer : 
Light jest, and laugh, and song 

Rang swiftly round from peer to peer ; 
Alone on that gay throng 

The harper looked with eye severe, 
The while in unknown tongue 

A mournful dirge abroad he poured ; 

Sad strains, forlorn, and slow : 
Poor wreck of music prized and stored 

Long centuries ago 
On British hills ere Saxon sword 

Had stained as yet their snow. 

" Strike other chords !" the monarch cried ; 

" Whate'er thy words may be, 
They sound the dirge of festal pride : 

Warriors, not monks, are we ! 
The melodies to grief allied 

No music make for me." 

Louder and louder pealed the strain, 
More wild, and soul-entrancing : 

Picturing now helmets cloven in twain, 
Now swords like meteors glancing ; 

Now trampling hosts o'er hill and plain 
Retreating and advancing. 



22 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

The bard meanwhile with cold, stern air, 
Looked proudly on the proud, 

Fixing unmoved a victor's stare 
On that astonished crowd — 

Till all the princes gathered there 
Leaped up, and cried aloud : " 

" What man, what chief, what crowned head 

Eternal heir of fame, 
Of all that live, or all the dead, 

This praise shall dare to claim ?" 
Then rose that British bard, and said, 

" King Arthur is his name." 

"What sceptre grasped King Arthur's hand?" 

" The sceptre of this Isle." 
" What nations bled beneath his brand ?" 

" The Saxon foe ere while." 
" His tomb ?" was Henry's next demand — 

" He sleeps in yonder pile." 

Forth went the King with all his train, 

At the mid hour of night ; 
They paced in pairs the silent plain 

Under the red torch-light. 
The moon was sinking in her wane, 

The tower yet glimmered bright. 

The grave they found ; their swift strokes fell, 

Piercing dull earth and stone. 
They reached ere long an oaken cell, 

And cross of oak, whereon 
Was graved, " Here sleeps King Arthur well, 

In the Isle of Avalon." 



THE VOICE. 23 

The mail on every knightly breast, 

The steel at each man's side, 
Sent forth a sudden gleam : each crest 

Bowed low its plumed pride : 
Down o'er the coffin stooped a priest — 

But first the monarch cried, 

" Great king ! in youth I made a vow 
Earth's mightiest son to greet ; 

His hand to worship ; on his brow 
To gaze ; his grace entreat. 

Therefore, though dead, till noontide thou 
Shalt fill my royal seat !" 

Away the massive lid they rolled — 

Alas ! What found they there ? 
No kingly brow, no shapely mold ; 

But dust where such things were. 
Ashes o'er ashes, fold on fold, 

And one bright wreath of hair. 

Then Henry lifted from his head 

The Conqueror's iron crown : 
That crown upon that dust he laid, 

And knelt in reverence down, 
And raised both hands to heaven, and said, 

" Thou, God, art King alone !" 

11 Lie there, my crown, since God decrees 

This head a couch as low ! 
What am I better now than these 

Six hundred years ago ? 
Henceforth all mortal pageantries 

I count an idle show." — Aubrey de Vere. 



24 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

QUALITY. 

Quality relates to the kind of tone. 

Broadly speaking, there are but two kinds of 
tone — the pure and the impure. 

The pure tone is that in which all the breath 
is vocalized. The impure, or aspirate, is the tone 
in which only a part of the breath is vocalized. 

The pure tone enlarged and intensified becomes 
the Orotund — " a full round tone used to express 
grand thoughts or to picture sublime objects." 

The Guttural, so called because the resonance 
is chiefly in the guttur, or throat, is employed to 
express intense hatred, scorn, and rage. 

While the voice is being developed, we do not 
advise prolonged practice of gutturals. 

PITCH, FORCE, AND QUALITY. 

Scientific investigation reports that Force de- 
pends on the amplitude of the air waves set in 
motion by some mass of matter in vibration ; 
Pitch upon the number of vibrations given forth 
in a second of time. The fewer the vibrations the 
lower the pitch of the sound ; the greater the 
number of vibrations in each second the higher 
the pitch. Quality, or Timbre, depends upon the 
forms of the air waves sent out from the vibrat- 
ing body. 

TIME. 

Time is the rate of utterance. 
It is not a property of the voice, but simply re- 
lates to its continuance for a longer or slwrter period, 



THE VOICE. 25 

For practice we give Moderate, or Common, 
Time, Quick Time, Very Quick Time, Slow Time, 
and Very Sloio Time. 

The rate of utterance must, of course, depend 
upon the sentiment or emotion to be expressed. 

Unimpassioned discourse and simple descrip- 
tion take Moderate Time ; animated descriptions, 
Quick Time ; violent passion, Yery Quick Time ; 
tenderness takes Slow Time ; solemnity, Very 
Slow Time. 

STRESS. 

The manner in which Force is applied forms an 
important part of "vocal technique." 
Six kinds of Stress are usually given : 

> The Radical Stress. 

< The Terminal Stress. 
<> The Median Stress. 
>< The Compound Stress. 
The Tremor. 

= The Thorough Stress. 

In the Radical, as the name implies, the 
greatest stress is given at the beginning of the 
sound, and in the Terminal at the end. 

The Median Stress is given by gradually in- 
creasing and as gradually diminishing the sound. 

The Compound Stress is simply the Radical 
and Terminal united. 

The Tremor — sometimes called the Intermit- 
tent Stress — is a trembling of the voice. 

In the Thorough Stress the Force is sustained. 



26 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

ON THE USE OF THE SIX KINDS OF STRESS. 

m 

The Radical Stress is used to express positive 
and decisive convictions. " England's Treatment 
of Ireland " affords an opportunity for the appli- 
cation of this kind of Stress. 

ENGLAND'S TBEATMENT OF IBET.ANP. 

What is the case of Ireland at this moment ? 
Have the gentlemen considered that they are 
coming into contact with a nation ? This, if I un- 
derstand it, is one of the golden moments of our 
history, one of those opportunities which may 
come, may go, but which rarely return, or, if they 
return, return at long intervals, and under circum- 
stances which no man can forecast. There have 
been such golden moments even in the tragic 
history of Ireland. There was such a golden 
moment in 1795 during the mission of Lord 
Fitzwilliam, and at that moment it is historically 
clear that the Parliament of Grattan was on the 
point of solving the Irish problem. The two 
great knots of that problem were Catholic eman- 
cipation and reform of Parliament. The cup was 
at her lips and she was ready to drink it, when 
the hand of England rudely and ruthlessly 
dashed it to the ground in obedience to the wild 
and dangerous intimation of an Irish faction. 

There has been no great day of hope for Ireland, 
no day when you might hope completely and 
definitely to end the controversy, till now, after 
more than ninety years. The long periodic time 



TUB VOICE. 27 

has at last run out, and the star has again 
mounted up into the heavens. What Ireland 
was doing for herself in 1798, we at length have 
done. The Roman Catholics have been emanci- 
pated — emancipated after a woful disregard of 
solemn promises through twenty-nine years, 
emancipated slowly, sullenly, not from good- 
will, but from abject terror, with all the fruits 
and consequences that will follow that method 
of legislation. The second problem has been 
also solved: the representation of Ireland re- 
formed ; the franchise given to her with the read- 
justment with a free and open hand. That gift 
of franchise was the last act required to make the 
success of Ireland in her final effort absolutely 
sure. We have given Ireland a voice and we 
must listen to what she says. We must all listen, 
both sides, both parties. Ireland stands at your 
bar expectant, hopeful, almost suppliant. Her 
words are the words of truth and soberness. 
She asks blessed oblivion of the past, and in that 
oblivion our interest is a deeper interest than 
hers. Go into the length and breadth of the 
world, search the literature of all countries, and 
find if you can a single voice, a single book in 
which the conduct of England towards Ireland 
is anywhere treated except with profound and 
bitter condemnation. 

Are these the traditions by which we are ex- 
horted to stand? No! They are a sad excep- 
tion to the glory of our country. They are 
more than a black blot upon the pages of its his- 



28 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

tory. And what we want to do is to stand by the 
traditions of which we are the heirs in all matters 
except our relations with Ireland. So we treat 
our traditions ; so we hail the demand of Ireland 
for a blessed oblivion of the past. She asks also 
a boon for the future, and that will be a boon to 
us in respect to honor no less than to her in re- 
spect to happiness, prosperity, and peace. 

William K Gladstone. 

The Terminal Stress is used to express scorn, 
defiance, and revenge when used violently, and 
peevishness and impatience when used lightly. 
The Terminal Stress prevails in "The Semi- 
nole's Defiance." 

THE SEMINOLE'S DEFIANCE. 

Blaze ! with your serried columns, 

I will not bend the knee ! 
The shackle ne'er again shall bind 

The arm which now is free : 
I have mailed it with the thunder 

"When the tempest muttered low : 
And where it falls ye well may dread 

The lightning of its blow ! 

I've scared ye in the city, 

I've scalped ye on the plain ; 
Go, count your chosen where they fell 

Beneath my leaden rain. 
I scorn your proffered treaty, 

The pale-face I defy ; 
Revenge is stamped upon my spear, 

And (> Blood!" my battle cry. 



THE VOICE. 29 

Some strike for hope of booty, 

Some to defend their all — 
I battle for the joy I have 

To see the white man fall ! 
I love, among the wounded, 

To hear his dying moan, 
And catch, while chanting at his side, 

The music of his groan. 

Ye've trailed me through the forest, 

Ye've tracked me o'er the stream, 
And, struggling through the ever-glade, 

Your bristling bayonets gleam : 
But I stand as should the warrior, 

With his rifle and his spear : 
The scalp of vengeance still is red, 

And warns ye — Come not here! 

Think ye. to find my homestead ? 

I gave it to the fire ! 
My tawny household do ye seek ? 

I am a childless sire ! 
But should ye crave life's nourishment, 

Enough I have and good : — 
i" live on hate — 'tis all my bread, 

Yet light is not my food. 

I loathe you with my bosom, 

I scorn you with mine eye — 
And I'll taunt you with my latest breath. 

And fight you till I die ! 



30 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

I ne'er will ask you quarter, 
And I ne'er will be your slave : 

But I'll swim the sea of slaughter, 
Till I sink beneath its wave. 

Q. W. Patten. 

The Median Stress is used in tranquil emotions. 
It is most appropriate in poetic description. 
The movement is smooth and gliding. " A For- 
est Hymn " should be given with Median Stress. 

A FOKEST HYMN. 

The groves were God's first temples. Ere man 

learned 
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, 
And spread the roof above them — ere he framed 
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back 
The sound of anthems, in the darkling wood, 
Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down, 
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks 
And supplication. For his simple heart 
Might not resist the sacred influence 
Which, from the stilly twilight of the place, 
And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven 
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound 
Of the invisible breath that swayed at once 
All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed 
His spirit with the thought of boundless power 
And inaccessible majesty. 

Father, Thy hand 
Hath reared these venerable columns, Thou 
Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look 

down 



TBS VOICE. 31 

Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose 

All these fair ranks of trees. They, in Thy sun, 

Budded, and shook their green leaves in Thy 

breeze, 
And shot toward heaven. 

Grandeur, strength, and grace 
Are here to speak of Thee. This mighty oak — 
By whose immovable stem I stand and seem 
Almost annihilated — not a prince, 
In all that proud old world beyond the deep, 
E'er wore his crown as loftily as he 
Wears the green coronal of leaves with which 
Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root 
Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare 
Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower, 
With scented breath and look so like a smile, 
Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould, 
An emanation of the indwelling Life, 
A visible token of the upholding Love, 
That are the soul of this great universe. 

My heart is awed within me when I think 
Of the great miracle that still goes on, 
In silence, round me — the perpetual work 
Of Thy creation, finished, yet renewed 
Forever. Written on Thy works I read 
The lesson of Thy own eternity. 
Lo ! all grow old and die — but see again, 
How on the faltering footsteps of decay 
Youth presses — ever gay and beautiful youth 
In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees 
Wave not less proudly that their ancestors 
Moulder beneath them. Oh, there is not lost 



32 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

One of earth's charms : upon her bosom yet, 
After the flight of untold centuries, 
The freshness of her far beginning lies 
And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate 
Of his arch-enemy Death — yea, seats himself 
Upon the tyrant's throne — the sepulchre, 
And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe 
Makes his own nourishment. For he came forth 
From thine own bosom, and shall have no end. 
Oh ! let me often to these solitudes 
Retire, and in Thy presence reassure 
My feeble virtue. Here its enemies, 
The passions, at Thy plainer footsteps shrink 
And tremble and are still. O God ! when Thou 
Dost scare the world with tempests, set on fire 
The heavens with falling thunderbolts, or fill, 
With all the waters of the firmament, 
The swift dark whirlwind that uproots the woods 
And drowns the villages ; when, at Thy call, 
Uprises the great deep and throws himself 
Upon the continent, and overwhelms 
Its cities — who forgets not, at the sight 
Of these tremendous tokens of Thy power, 
His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by ? 
Oh, from these sterner aspects of Thy face 
Spare me and mine, nor let us need the wrath 
Of the mad unchained elements to teach 
Who rules them. Be it ours to meditate, 
In these calm shades, Thy milder majesty, 
And to the beautiful order of Thy works 
Learn to conform the order of our lives. 

William Cullen Bryant. 



THE VOICE. W3 

The Compound Stress is used to render a min- 
gling of emotions, as surprise and anger, scorn 
and contempt. " The Chameleon " gives the 
student an opportunity to practise this kind of 
stress. 

THE CHAMELEON. 

Oft has it been my lot to mark 
A proud, conceited, talking spark, 
With eyes that hardly served at most 
To guard their master 'gainst a post ; 
Yet round the world the blade has been, 
To see whatever could be seen. 
Returning from his finished tour, 
Grown ten times perter than before, 
Whatever word you chance to drop 
The travelled fool your mouth will stop : 
" Sir, if my judgment you'll allow, 
I've seen — and sure I ought to know." 
So begs you'd pay a due submission, 
And acquiesce in his decision. 

Two travellers of such a cast, 
As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed, 
And on their way, in friendly chat, 
Now talked of this, and then of that ; 
Discoursed awhile, 'mongst other matter, 
Of the chameleon's form and nature. 
"A stranger animal," cries one, 
" Sure never lived beneath the sun : 
A lizard's body lean and long, 
A fish's head, a serpent's tongue, 



34 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Its foot with triple claw disjoined, 
And what a length of tail behind ! 
How slow its pace ! and then its hue, — 
Who ever saw so fine a blue ?" 



" Hold there !" the other quick replies ; 
" 'Tis green : I saw it with these eyes, 
As late with open mouth it lay 
And warmed it in the sunny ray ; 
Stretched at its ease the beast I viewed, 
And saw it eat the air for food." 

" I've seen it, sir, as well as you, 
And must again affirm it blue ; 
At leisure I the beast surveyed, 
Extended in the cooling shade." 

" "lis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye." 
" Green !" cries the other, in a fury: 
" Why, sir, d'ye think I've lost my eyes V 
" 'Twere no great loss," the friend replies ; 
" For if they always serve you thus, 
You'll find them but of little use." 

So high at last the contest rose, 
From words they almost came to blows, — 
When luckily came by a third : 
To him the question they referred, 
And begged he'd tell them, if he knew, 
Whether the thing were green or blue. 

" Sirs," cries the umpire, "cease your pother ; 
The creature's neither one nor t'other. 
I caught the animal last night, 
And viewed it o'er by candle-light : 



THE VOICE. 30 

I marked it well ; 'twas black as jet — 
You stare; but, sirs, I've got it yet, 
And can produce it." — " Pray, sir, do ; 
I'll lay my life the thing is blue." 
" And I'll be sworn that when you've seen 
The reptile you'll pronounce him green." 

" Well, then, at once to ease the doubt," 
Replies the man, " I'll turn him out ; 
And when before your eyes I've set him, 
If you don't find him black I'll eat him." 

He said, — and full before their sight 
Produced the beast, and lo ! 'twas white. 
Both stared ; the man looked wondrous wise. 
" My children," the chameleon cries, — 
Then first the creature found a tongue, — 
" You all are right and all are wrong : 
When next you talk of what you view, 
Think others see as well as you, 
Nor wonder if you find that none 
Prefers your eyesight to his own." 

James Merrick. 

The Tremor is used to express excessive emo- 
tion. The voice will tremble or shake in any 
great emotion of whatever nature. In reciting 
the part of Arthur in the " Scene from King 
John" this stress is used. 

SCENE FKOM KING JOHN. 
Act IV, Scene I. 
Hubert. Arthur. Attendants. 
Hub. Heat me these irons hot ; and look you 
stand 



36 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Within the arras : ! when I strike my foot 
Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth, 
And bind the boy which you shall find with me 
Fast to the chair : be heedful : hence, and watch. 
1 Attend. I hope your warrant will bear out the 

deed. 
Hub. Uncleanly scruples ! fear not you : look 
to't. — [Exeunt Attendants. 

Young lad, come forth ; I have to say with you. 

Enter Arthur. 

Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. 

Hub. Good morrow, little Prince. 

Arth. As little prince, having so great a title 
To be more 2 prince, as may be. You are sad. 

Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier. 

Arth. Mercy on me ! 

Methinks nobody should be sad but I : 
Yet, I remember, when I was in France, 
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, 
Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, 3 
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, 
I should be merry as the day is long ; 
And so I would be here, but that I doubt* 

1 Arras were the hangings or tapestries with which rooms 
were lined, before the days of plastering. To keep them 
from being rotted by the damp, they were hung on frames, 
far enough from the walls to admit of a person's hiding be- 
hind them. 

2 More for greater. 

8 Christendom for christening or baptism. The usage was 
common. 

4 Doubt in the sense of fear or suspect ; a frequent usage. — 
Practises, in the next line, is contrives, plots, or uses arts. 



THE VOICE. 37 

My uncle practises more harm to me : 

He is afraid of me, and I of him : 

Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son ? 

No, indeed, is't not ; and I would to Heaven 

I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. 

Hub. [Aside.] If I talk to him, with his inno- 
cent prate 
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead : 
Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch. 

Arth. Are you sick, Hubert ? you look pale to- 
day : 
In sooth, 1 I would you were a little sick, 
That I might sit all night and watch with you : 
I warrant I love you more than you do me. 

Hub. [Aside.] His words do take possession of 
my bosom. — 
Read here, young Arthur. — [Showing a paper. 
[Aside.] How, now, foolish rheum ! 9 
Turning dispiteous 3 torture out of door ! 
I must be brief, lest resolution drop 
Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears. — 
Can you not read it? is't not fairly writ ? 

Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect : 
Must you with hot irons burn out both mine 
eyes? 

Hub. Young boy, I must. 

Arth. And will you ? 

Hub. And I will. 

1 In truth or truly. 

2 UJieum for tears. 

8 Dispiteous for unpiteous, that is, pitiless. — In the next line, 
brief is quick, prompt, or sudden. 



38 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Arth. Have you the heart ? When your head 
did but ache, 
I knit my handkercher about your brows, — 
The best I had, a piincess wrought it me, — 
Aud I did never ask it you again ; 
And with my hand at midnight held your head ; 
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, 1 
Still and anon cheer 'd up the heavy time, 
Saying, Wliat lack you ? and, Where lies your grief ? 
Or, Wliat good love may I perform for you ? 
Many a poor man's son would have lain still, 
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to jom ; 
But you at your sick service 2 had a prince. 
Nay, you may think my love was crafty love, 
And call it cunning ; do, an if 3 you will : 
If Heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, 
Why, then you must. Will you put out mine 

eyes? 
These eyes that never did nor never shall 
So much as frown on you ? 

Hub. I've sworn to do it ; 

And with hot irons must I burn them out. 

Arth. Ah, none but in this iron age would do it ! 
The iron of itself, though heat 4 red-hot, 

1 That is, as the minutes watch over, or mark, the progress 
or passage of the hour. A pretty way of expressing a minute 
and sedulous attention.—" Still aud anon," in the next line, is 
the same as our ' • ever and anon. " 

2 Sick service is of course merely an instance of what is called 
transferred epithet : service done to the sick. 

3 An if is an old reduplication much used in the Poet's 
time. So we have an, or if, or an if, used indifferently. 

4 Heat for heated. 



TIIE VOICE. 39 

Approaching near these eyes, would drink my 

tears, 
And quench its fiery indignation 
Even in the water of mine innocence ; 
Nay, after that, consume away in rust, 
But for containing fire to harm mine eyes. 
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd 

iron ? 
An if an angel should have come to me, 
And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, 
I would not have believed him, — no tongue but 

Hubert's. 
Hub. Come forth ! [Stamps. 

Re-enter Attendants, with cord, irons, etc. 

Do as I bid you do. 

Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me ! my eyes 
are out 
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. 

Hub. Gi TT e me the iron, I say, and bind him 
here. 

Arth. Alas, what need you be so boisterous- 
rough ? 
I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. 
For Heaven-sake, Hubert, let me not be bound ! 
Nay, hear me, Hubert ! drive these men away, 
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ; 
I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, 
Nor look upon the iron angerly : 
Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, 
Whatever torment you do put me to. 

Hub, Go, stand within ; let me alone with him. 



40 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

1 Attend. I am best pleased to be from such a 
deed. [Exeunt Attendants. 

Arth. Alas, I then have chid away my friend ! 
He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart : 
Let him come back, that his compassion may 
Give life to yours. 

Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself. 

Arth. Is there no remedy? 

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. 

Arth. O Heaven, that there were but a mote in 
yours, 
A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, 
Any annoyance in that precious sense ! 
Then, feeling what small things are boisterous ' 

there, 
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. 

Hub. Is this your promise ? go to, hold your 
tongue. 

Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of 
tongues 
Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes : 
Let me not hold my tongue, let me not, Hubert ; 
Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, 
So I may keep mine eyes : O, spare mine eyes, 
Though to no use but still to look on vou ! 
Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold, 
And would not harm me. 

Hub. I can heat it, boy. 

Arth. No, in good sooth ; the fire is dead with 
grief, 

1 Boisterous was used much more variously thanat present; 
as a common antithesis to gentle, and so for rough, rude, vio- 
lent, etc. 



THE VOICE. 41 

Being create for comfort, to be used 

In undeserved extremes : * see else yourself ; 

There is no malice burning in this coal ; 

The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, 

And strew'd repentant ashes on his head. 

Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. 

Arth. An if you do, you will but make it blush, 
And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hu- 
bert : 
Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes ; 
And, like a dog that is compeli'd to fight, 
Snatch at his master that doth tarre 2 him on. 
All things that you should use to do me wrong 
Deny their office : only you do lack 
That mercy which fierce fire and iron extend, 
Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. 

Hub. Well, see to live ; I will not touch thine 
eyes 
For all the treasure that thine uncle owes : 
Yet am 1 sworn, and I did purpose, boy, 
With this same very iron to burn them out. 

Arth. O, now you look like- Hubert! all this 
while 
You were disguised. 

Hub. Peace ; no more. Adieu. 

Your uncle must not know but you are dead ; 
I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports : 

1 Extremities, or extreme severities, that are unmeritea. 
Johnson paraphrases the passage as follows: " The fire, being 
created not to hurt, but to comfort, is dead with grief for 
finding itself used in acts of cruelty, which, being innocent, 
I have not deserved." 

2 To tarre is to incite, to instigate, as in setting on dogs. 



42 CORBECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

And, pretty child, sleep doubtless ' and secure 
That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, 
Will not offend thee. 

Arth. Heaven ! I thank you, Hubert. 

Hub. Silence ; no more : go closely 2 in with 
me: 
Much danger do I undergo for thee. 

Shakespeare. 

The Thorough Stress is used for calling or pro- 
claiming, and is necessary whenever a sustained 
volume of sound is required. The seventh verse 
of the " Battle of Hohenlinden" will afford prac- 
tice of Thorough Stress. 

BATTLE OF HOHENLINDEN . 

On Linden, when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
And dark as winter was the flow 
Of Iser rolling rapidly. 

But Linden saw another sight, 
When the drum beat at dead of night, 
Commanding fires of death to light 
The darkness of her scenery. 

By torch, and trumpet fast arrayed, 
Each horseman drew his battle-blade ; 
And furious every charger neighed 
To join the dreadful revelry. 

1 Doubtless for fearless, as doubt for fear a little before. 
5 Closely is secretly; a frequent usage. 






THE VOICE. 4'J 

Then shook the hills with thunder riven ; 
Then rushed the steed to battle driven ; 
And louder than the bolts of heaven, 
Far flashed the red artillery. 

And redder yet those fires shall glow 
On Linden's hills of blood-stained snow ; 
And darker yet shall be the flow 
Of Iser rolling rapidly. 

'Tis morn, — but scarce yon lurid sun 
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, 
Where furious Frank and fiery Hun 
Shout in their sulph'rous canopy. 

The combat deepens. On, ye brave, 
Who rush to glory, or the grave ! 
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave ! 
And charge with all thy chivalry ! 

Few, few shall part where many meet ! 
The snow shall be their winding-sheet, 
And every turf beneath their feet 
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. 

Campbell. 

TRANSITIONS. 

Transitions or variations in Pitch, Force, Qual- 
ity, and Time are the reader's most powerful 
means to interest, charm, and convince. 

Due prominence or subordination is thus given 
to every thought, according to its relative impor- 
tance. 



44 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

We recommend to students whose reading is 
monotonous, the practice of "Transitions." 

PAUSING. 

There can be no correct reading, and certainly 
no effective reciting, without many, and some- 
times long, pauses. 

The law which regulates pausing is the sense. 
"A good reader must often pause where no 
grammarian could put a point." 

Sterne thus satirizes the critic who would bind 
emotional expression by grammatical rule : 

"'How did Garrick speak the soliloquy last 
night?' 'Oh, against all rule, my lord; most 
ungrammatically! Betwixt the substantive and 
the adjective, which should agree together in 
number, case, and gender, he made a breach, || 
stopping as if the point wanted settling. And 
after the nominative, which your lordship knows 
should govern the verb, he suspended his voice 
in the Epilogue a dozen times, — three seconds 
and three fifths by a stop-watch, my lord, each 
time ! ' ' Admirable grammarian ! But in sus- 
pending his voice, was the sense suspended like- 
wise? Did no expression of attitude or coun- 
tenance fill iip the chasm ? Was the eye silent ? 
Did you narrowly look ? ' 'I looked only at the 
stop-watch, my lord ! ' ' Excellent observer !' 



i' " 



TONES AND ARTICULATIONS. 

" Artistic excellence in any form of art is rarely 
attained in after-life if the foundation is not laid 
in childhood." 



THE VOICE. 45 

This is especially true of reading. 

From their teuderest years pupils should be 
trained to articulate distinctly. 

All intelligent reading must be preceded by 
comprehension. 

If the reader cannot take the thought into his 
own mind, how can he give it to the mind of 
another ? 

Many ill effects arise from giving children lan- 
guage to read which they do not comprehend. 
If a child compose a sentence, it will never fail 
to give its meaning to another, and its inflections 
and pauses will be artistically correct. Let it 
understand, as thoroughly, every exercise in 
reading and recitation it is called upon to give, 
and the same artistic excellence will mark its 
delivery. 

VOWELS AND CONSONANTS. 

To develop the voice and gain control of the 
organs of speech, we recommend the practice of 
the following exercises. The first contains the 
extremes of vowel sounds. 

EXERCISES. 

1st. Open the throat, as in gaping, and give a as 
in fat lier. 

Extend the lips sideways, as when smiling, and 
give the vowel e. 

Purse the lips forward, and give do as in ooze. 

2d. Inflate the lungs thoroughly, then give 
each of the following sounds with the Median 
Stress; i.e., begin the sound softly, and grad- 



46 CORRECT AND EFFECT1 VE ELOCUTION. 

uallj increase the volume of the tone to the full 
power of the voice, then as gradually diminish it : 
e, d, ah, aw, o, do. 

3d. Give the above sounds with the Eadical 
Stress. 

The student of expression is reminded that to 
understand and feel what is to be expressed is 
not sufficient. A perfect control of all the agents 
of expression is also required, and this control is 
only acquired by faithful practice. 

PRONUNCIATION. 

To pronounce elegantly, one must give cor- 
rectly the sound of every vowel and the power 
of every consonant, together with the proper 
accentuation. 

We do not think it necessary to discuss the 
subject of pronunciation to any great extent in 
this book, but only to give directions by which 
the pupil may acquire a thorough knowledge of 
this important part of elocution. 

The student must appeal constantly to the best 
dictionaries. As, however, pronunciation is more 
a matter of habit than knowledge, we recommend 
students to make lists of words which they mis- 
pronounce or fail to give with sufficient distinct- 
ness of articulation. 

Students should carefully observe and give the 
intermediate sound of d in such words as last, past, 
etc. We often hear the sound of a as in at inel- 
egantly substituted. Another common fault is 
giving the sound of u in such words as duke, neics, 
etc., like do. 



THE VOICE. 47 

Genius lias been defined as the art of taking 
great pains. And certainly with industry, stu- 
dents of ordinary ability may succeed in acquir- 
ing an elegant pronunciation. 

An excellent exercise is to select from a read- 
ing the most difficult words, and to articulate very 
slowly the elementary sounds which compose such 
words. 

Another exercise which we have found most 
beneficial is to read in a whisper so as to be un- 
derstood at a distance. The effort the pupil will 
make to compensate by distinctness of enuncia- 
tion for the lack of vocal power will strengthen 
the organs of speech by bringing them more 
powerfully into play. Alexander Melville Bell, 
whose works are of great scientific value, declares 
excellence of pronunciation to depend primarily 
on a clear syllabication of words. 

In conclusion, we beg the pupil to endeavor 
to realize the description given by the Rev. Mr. 
Austin in his "Chironomia" of the words of a 
good speaker, which he declares to be like 
"beautiful coins newly issued from the mint, 
deeply and accurately impressed, perfectly fin- 
ished, neatly struck by the proper organs, dis- 
tinct, sharp, in due succession, and of due 
weight." 

ENGLISH PHONETIC ELEMENTS. 

The following arrangement of Bell's exhibits 
all the English Phonetic Elements, in a scheme 
of Roman letters, by means of which every detail 



48 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

of English pronunciation may be exactly repre- 
sented in ordinary type. 

The mark (-) over vowels denotes the "long " or 
name-sounds of the letters ; the mark (J) denotes 
their second or "short" sounds; the mark( A ) 
denotes the sounds of the vowel-letters before r; 
and a dot under vowels denotes "obscure," unac- 
cented sounds. The digraphs ah, ay, aw, oo, ow, 
oy, are associated with their most usual sounds, 
so as to make phonetic transcription as little as 
possible different from ordinary orthography. 







VOWELS. 








FIRST 


SOUNDS. 




Elements. 


Illustrative words. 


Elements. 


Illustrative words. 


1 


ay 


ale, day, weight. 


5 ow 


old, know, beau. 


2 


a 


serial, hesitate. 


6 o 


obey, also. 


3 


e 


eel, seal, field. 


7 a 


use, beauty, ague. 


4 


I 


idle, try, height. 


8 oo 


too, through, true. 






SECOND SOUNDS. 




9 


a 


am, carry. 


12 6 


on, sorry. 


10 


6 


end, merit. 


13 u 


up, hurry. 


11 


r 


ill, spirit. 

SOUNDS 


14 oo 

BEFORE R. 


foot, put. 


15 


a 


care, fair, there. 


17 6 


ore, pour, floor. 


16 


\t 


her, earn. 


18 u 


pure, cure. 




sir, firm. 


19 oo 


poor, tour, sure. 






ADDITIONAL SOUNDS 




20 


ah 


ask, bath. 


24 aw 


wall, saw, ought. 


21 


ah 


ah, heart, father. 


25 ow 


how, house, bough, 


22 


ahy 


ay, naive. 


26 oy 


boy, oil. 


23 


aw 


watch, want. 










THE VOICE. 



49 



OBSCURE SOUNDS. 

Elements. Illustrative words. Elements. 

27 a a, total, collar. 30 o 

28 c -less, -ness, -ment. 31 u 

29 i the, -ace, -age, -aiu. 



Illustrative words. 
-or, con-, coin-. 

-our, -tion, -tious. 



CONSONANTS. 

NON-VOCAL. 

32 h band, perhaps, vehement. 38 th thin, hath, athwart. 

33 yh hue, human. 39 f 

34 \vh why, awhile. 40 p 

35 s say, cell, scene. 41 t 

36 sh wish, mission, notion. 42 k 

37 ch each, fetch, church. 



fine, knife, laugh, 
peep, supper, hope, 
ten, matter, mate, 
key, cat, back, quite. 



VOCAL. 



43 y ye, yes, use. 

44 w we, way, beware. 

45 r ray, free, screw. 

46 r air, ear, ire. 



52 dh then, with, other. 

53 v vain, love, of. 

54 b babe, rub, robber. 

55 d did. middle, made. 



47 1 let, seal, mile. 56 g gap, gun, plague. 

48 1 lure, lute, lucid. 57 m may, blame, hammer. 

49 z zeal, as, rose. 58 n no, tune, banner. 

50 zh vision, pleasure, rouge. 59 ng ring, ink, uncle. 

51 j jail, jest, join. 

The letters c, q, x, do not appear in the above 
scheme, because their sounds are represented by 
s and k. The letter g appears with its " hard " 
sound only, because its " soft " sound is repre- 
sented by j. The letters ch and j are retained 
with their ordinary associations. 

Of the seven consonants denoted by digraphs, 
the sounds of wh, th, sh, ng, are very regularly 
associated with these letters ; but the sounds 



50 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

intended by yh, dh, zh, are never so written in or- 
dinary orthography. 

The following tabular arrangement of English 
vowels will be found convenient, as showing the 
serial relations of the sounds. 



pool\ 17 

pull\l6 
old\ 15 
ore \ 14 
all\l3 
doll\12 
up\ll 
err\ 10 




SLIDES. 



In speaking, the voice is continually chang- 
ing its pitch. These upward and downward 
movements are called slides or inflections. 

Broadly speaking, there are but two inflections : 
the rising inflection, marked thus, (/), and the 
falling inflection, marked thus, (\). 

The rising and falling united form what is 
called the falling circumflex, marked thus, (/\). 

The falling and rising united form what is 
called the rising circumflex, marked thus, (\/)- 

The rising double wave consists of a falling cir- 
cumflex, finished with a rising inflection, and is 
marked thus, (/\y). 



PICTURING. 51 

The execution of tlie slides is effected by de- 
pressing the radical part of the inflection below 
the middle tone for a rise, and elevating it above 
the middle tone for a fall. 

Inflections may very truly be called the lan- 
guage of the emotions ; for tones give the thovght, 
and no thought can arise in the mind without 
some attendant emotion; even if it be one of in- 
difference. 

What the student must know is liow to vary 
his voice. The mechanism of inflections must 
be thoroughly mastered. 

"The perfection of art is to conceal art," and 
the student of expression must guard continu- 
ously against allowing technique to become ap- 
parent. 

The simple slides express candor, sincerity, 
while the compound slides are the language of 
artifice and double meaning. 

The rising slide expresses incompleteness, an- 
ticipation, interrogation, doubt, entreaty, defer- 
ence, modesty, desire ; the falling slide, complete- 
ness, satisfaction, assertion, confidence, com- 
mand, disregard, haughtiness. 



PICTURING. 

Much of the charm of reading depends upon 
the reader's ability to paint the scene. The 
reader should locate places aud objects by ap- 
propriate gestures. 



52 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Legouve claims that the study of elocution im- 
proves the memory ; and certainly the effort nec- 
essary to retain the mental picture once made 
must be beneficial to the memory. 

"We should be careful to personate the differ- 
ent characters represented by suitable loohs, ges- 
tures, and tones. 

" Persuade yourself that there are blind men 
and deaf men in your audience whom you must 
move, interest, and persuade. Your inflection 
must become pantomime to the blind, and your 
pantomime inflection to the deaf." 



Selected Readings and Recitations 
for Practice. 



SCENE FROM TAMING OF THE SHREW. 

Act V., Scene II. 

Baptista. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio, 
I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. 

Petruchio. Well, I say — no : and therefore, for 
assurance 
Let's each one send unto his wife ; 
And he whose wife is most obedient 
To come at first when he doth send for her, 
Shall win the wager which we will propose. 

Hortensio. Content. — What is the wager ? 

Lucentio. Twenty crowns. 

Pet. Twenty crowns ! 
I'll venture so much on my hawk or hound, 
But twenty times so much upon my wife. 

Luc. A hundred, then. 

Hor. Content. 

Pet. A match ; 'tis done. 

Hor. Who shall begin? 

Luc. That will I. Go, 

Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. 

Biondello. I go. [Exit. 

Bap. Son, I will be your half, Bianca comes. 



54 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Luc. I'll have no halves : I'll bear it all 
myself. 

Re-enter Biondello. 

How now ! What news ? 

Bion. Sir, my mistress sends you word 

That she is busy, and she cannot come. 

Pet. How ! she is busy, and she cannot come ! 
Is that an answer ? 

Gremio. Ay, and a kind one too : 

Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. 

Pet. I hope, better. 

Hor. Sirrah, Biondello, go, and entreat my wife 
To come to me forthwith. {Exit Biondello. 

Pet. Oho ! entreat her ! 

Nay, then she must needs come. 

Hor. I am afraid, sir, 

Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. 

Re-enter Biondello. 

Now, where's my wife ? 

Bion. She says you have some goodly jest in 
hand; 
She will not come ; she bids you come to her. 

Pet. Worse and worse ; she will not come ! O 
vile, 
Intolerable, not to be endured ! 
Sirrah, Grumio, go to your mistress ; 
Say I command her come to me. {Exit Grumio. 

Hor. I know her answer. 

Pet. What? 

Hor. She will not. 

Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 56 

Enter Katharina. 
Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes Kath- 
arina ! 
Katharina. What is your will, sir, that you send 

for me? 
Pet. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's 

wife ? 
Kath. They sit conferring by the parlor fire. 
Pet. Go fetch them hither ; if they deny to 
come, 
Swinge me them soundly forth unto their hus- 
bands. 
Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. 

[Exit Kath. 
Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. 
Hor. And so it is ; I wonder what it bodes. 
Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet 
life, 
An lawful rule, and right supremacy ; 
And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and 
happy. 
Bap. Now fair befall thee, good Petruchio ! 
The wager thou hast won ; and I will add 
Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns ; 
Another dowry to another daughter, 
For she is changed, as she had never been. 

Pet. Nay, I will win my wager better yet ; 
And show more sign of her obedience, 
Her new-built virtue and obedience. 

Re-enter Kath. icith Bianca and Widow. 
See, where she comes ; and brings your froward 
wives 



56 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. — 
Katharine, that cap of yours becomes you not : 
Off with that bauble, throw it under foot. 

[Kath. pulls off her cap, and throws it down. 
Widoiv. Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh, 
Till I be brought to such a silly pass ! 

Bianca. Fie ! What a foolish duty call you 

this? 
Luc. I would your duty were as foolish too : 
The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, 
Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper- 
time. 
Bian. The more fool you for laying on my duty. 
Pet. Katharine, I charge thee, tell these head- 
strong women 
"What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. 
Wid. Come, come, you're mocking; we will 

have no telling. 
Pet. Come on, I say ; and first begin with her. 
Wid. She shall not. 

Pet. I say she shall ; — and first begin with her. 
Kath. Fie ! fie ! unknit that threat'ning unkind 
brow ; 
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, 
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor ; 
It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads ; 
Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair 

buds; 
And in no sense is meet, or amiable. 
A woman moved, is like a fountain troubled, 
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty ; 
And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 57 

Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it. 
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, 
Thy head, thy sovereign ; one that cares for thee, 
And for thy maintenance : commits his body 
To painful labor, both by sea and land ; 
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, 
While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe ; 
And craves no other tribute at thy hands 
But love, fair looks, and true obedience ; — 
Too little payment for so great a debt. 
Such duty as the subject owes the prince, 
Even such a woman oweth to her husband. 
And when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sour, 
And not obedient to his honest will, 
What is she but a foul contending rebel, 
And graceless traitor to her loving lord ? 
I am ashamed that women are so simple 
To offer war, where they should kneel for peace : 
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway, 
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. 

Shakespeare. 

THE MONK'S MAGNIFICAT. 

A stately abbey many prayerful years 

Had risen o'er the marshes ; thither went 

In tribulation, sickness, want, or fears 

The peasants for whose weal her stores were 

spent, 
Certain to find a welcome and to be 
Helped in the hour of their extremity. 

The monks in simple ways and works were glad ; 
Yet all men must have sorrows of their own. 



58 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

And so a bitter grief the brothers had, 
Nor mourned for other's heaviness alone. 
This was the secret of their sorrowing — 
That not a monk in all the house could sing ! 

Was it the damp air from the lonely marsh, 

Or strain of scarcely intermitted prayer, 

That made their voices, when they sang, as 

harsh 
As any frogs' that croak in evening air — 
That made less music in their hymns to lie 
Than in the hoarsest wild fowl's hoarsest cry ? 

If love could sweeten voice to sing a song, 
Theirs had been sweetest song was ever sung ; 
But their heart's music reached their lips all 

wrong. 
The soul's intent foiled by the traitorous tongue 
That marred the chapel's peace, and seemed to 

scare 
The rapt devotion lingering in the air. 

The brethren's prayers and fasts availing not 
To give them voices sweet, their soul's desire, 
The Abbot said : "Gifts He did not allot, 
God at our hands will not again require ; 
Praise Him we must, and since we cannot praise 
As we would choose, we praise Him in our 
ways." 

But one good brother, anxious to remove 
This, the reproach now laid on them so long, 
Rejected counsel, and for very love 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 59 

Besought a brother skilled in art of song 
To come to them — his cloister far to leave — 
And sing Magnificat on Christmas Eve. 

And when the time for singing it had come, 
"With pure face raised, and sweetest voice, he 

sang: 
Magnificat anima mea Dominum ; et exultavit spir- 

itus mens in Deo salutari meo. 
Each in his stall the monks stood glad and 

dumb, 
As through the chancel's dusk his voice out- 
rang, 
Pure, clear, and perfect as the thrushes sing 
Their first impulsive welcome of the spring. 
At the first notes the Abbot's heart spoke low : 
" O God, accept this singing, seeing we, 
Had we the power, would ever praise Thee so — 
Would ever, Lord, Thou know'st, sing thus for 

Thee; 
Thus in our hearts Thy hymns are ever sung, 
As he Thou blessest sings them with his 
tongue." 

But as the voice rose higher, and more sweet, 
Suscepit Israel, puerum suum, recordatus miseri- 

cordiae suae, 
The Abbot's heart said : " Thou hast heard us 

grieve, 
And sent an angel from beside Thy feet 
To sing Magnificat on Christmas Eve, 



60 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

To ease our ache of soul, and let us see 
How we some day in heaven shall sing to 
Thee." 



When, service done, the brothers gathered round 
To thank the singer, modest-eyed, said he : 
" Not mine the grace, if grace indeed abound, 
God gave the power, if any power there be ; 
If I in hymn or psalm clear voice can raise, 
As His the gift, so His be all the praise !" 

That night — the Abbot lying on his bed — 
A sudden flood of radiance on him fell, 
Poured from the crucifix above his head, 
And cast a stream of light across his cell — 
And in the fullest fervor of the light — 
An angel stood, glittering, and great, and white. 
The angel spoke, his voice was low and sweet, 
As the sea's murmur on low-lying shore, 
Or whisper of the wind in ripened wheat. 
" Brother," he said, " the God we both adore 
Hath sent me down to ask, is all not right? 
Why was Magnificat not sung to-night ?" 

Tranced, in the joy the angel's presence brought, 
The Abbot answered: "All these weary years 
We have sung our best, but always have we 

thought 
Our voices were unworthy heavenly ears ; 
And so to-night we found a clearer tongue, 
And by it the Magnificat was sung." 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND RECITATION 61 

The angel answered : " All these happy years 
In heaven has your Magnificat been heard ; 
This night alone the angels' listening ears 
Of all its music caught no single word. 
Say, who is he whose goodness is not strong 
Enough to bear the burden of his song ?" 

The Abbot named his name. "Ah, why," he 

cried, 
"Have angels heard not what we found so 

dear?" 
" Only pure hearts," the angel's voice replied, 
" Can carry human songs up to God's ear ; 
To-night in heaven was missed the sweetest 

praise 
That ever rises from earth's mudstained maze. 

" The monk who sang Magnificat is filled 
With love of praise, and with hypocrisy ; 
He sings for earth, in heaven his notes are 

stilled 
By muffling weight of deadening vanity ; 
His heart is chained to earth, and cannot bear 
His singing higher than the listening air ! 

" From purest hearts most perfect music springs, 
And while you mourned your voices were not 

sweet, 
Marred by the accident of earthly things, 
In heaven, God, listening, judged your song 

complete. 
The sweetest of earth's music came from you, 
The music of a noble life and true." 

E. Nesbit. 



62 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

SCENE PROM OTHELLO. 
Act II. , Scene III. 

I AGO AND CASSIO. 

Iago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant ? 

Cas. Ay, past all surgery. 

Iago. Marry, heaven forbid ! 

Cas. Keputation, reputation, reputation ! O, I 
have lost my reputation ! I have lost the im- 
mortal part, sir, of myself, and what remains is 
bestial. — My reputation, Iago, my reputation. 

Iago. As I am an honest man, I thought you 
had received some bodily wound ; there is more 
offence in that, than in reputation. Reputation is 
an idle and most false imposition ; oft got with- 
out merit, and lost without deserving. You have 
lost no reputation at all, unless you repute your- 
self such a loser. What, man ! there are ways to 
recover the general again. You are but now cast 
in his mood, a punishment more in policy than in 
malice ; even so as one would beat his offenceless 
dog, to affright an imperious lion. Sue to him 
again, and he is yours. 

Cas. I will rather sue to be despised, than to 
deceive so good a commander, with so slight, so 
drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk ? 
and speak parrot ? and squabble ? swagger ? 
swear? and discourse fustian with one's own 
shadow ? — O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou 
hast no name to be known by, let us call thee — 
devil ! 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 03 

logo. What was he that you followed with 
your sword ? What had he done to you ? 

Cos. I know not. 

logo. Is it possible ? 

Cos. I remember a mass of things, but nothing 
distinctly ; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. — O 
that men should put an enemy in their mouths, 
to steal away their brains ! that we should, with 
joy, revel, pleasure, and applause, transform our- 
selves into beasts ! 

Iago. Why, but you are now well enough. 
How came you thus recovered ? 

Cos. It hath pleased the devil, drunkenness, to 
give place to the devil, wrath ; one unperfectness 
shows me another, to make me frankly despise 
myself. 

Iago. Come, you are too severe a moraler. As 
the time, the place, and the condition of this 
country stands, I could heartily wish this had 
not befallen ; but, since it is as it is, mend it for 
your own good. 

Cos. I will ask him for my place again ; he 
shall tell me I am a drunkard ! Had I as many 
mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop 
them all. To be now a sensible man, by and 
by a fool, and presently a beast ! O strange ! 
Every inordinate cup is unblessed, and the in- 
gredient is a devil. 

Iago. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar 
creature, if it be well used; exclaim no more 
against it. And, good lieutenant, I think, you 
think I love you. 



04 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Cas. I have well approved it, sir. — I drunk ! 

logo. You, or any man living, may be drunk at 
some time, man. I'll tell you what you shall do. 
Our general's wife is now the general ; — I may 
say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and 
given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and 
denotement of her parts and graces : — confess 
yourself freely to her ; importune her ; she'll 
help to put you in your place again ; she is of 
so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, 
that she holds it a vice in her goodness, not to 
do more than she is requested. This broken 
joint between you and her husband, entreat her 
to splinter ; and, my fortunes against any lay 
worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow 
stronger than it was before. 

Cas. You advise me well. 

logo. I protest, in the sincerity of love, and 
honest kindness. 

Cas. I think it freely ; and betimes in the 
morning, I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona 
to undertake for me. I am desperate of my for- 
tunes, if they check me here. 

logo. You are in the right. Good night, lieu- 
tenant ; I must to the watch. 

Cas. Good night, honest Iago. 

Shakespeare. 

MABEL MABTIN. 

It was the pleasant harvest-time, 
When cellar-bins are closely stowed, 
And garrets bend beneath their load. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 05 

On Esek Harden 1 ;* oaken floor, 

With many an autumn threshing worn, 
Lay the heaped ears of unhusked corn. 

And thither came young men and maids, 
Beneath a moon that, large and low, 
Lit that sweet eve of long ago. 

And jests went round, and laughs that niado 
The house-dog answer with his howl, 
And kept astir the barn-yard fowl ; 

But still the sweetest voice was mute 
'That river-valley ever heard 
From lip of maid or throat of bird ; 

For Mabel Martin sat apart, 

And let the hay-mow's shadow fall 
Upon the loveliest face of all. 

She sat apart, as one forbid, 

Who knew that none would condescend 
To own the Witch-wife's child a friend. 

The seasons scarce had gone their round, 
Since curious thousands thronged to see 
Her mother on the gallows-tree. 

Few questioned of the sorrowing child, 
Or, when they saw the mother die, 
Dreamed of the daughter's agony. 

Poor Mabel from her mother's grave 
Crept to her desolate hearth-stone, 
And wrestled with her fate alone. 



66 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

With love, and anger, and despair, 
The phantoms of disordered sense, 
The awful doubts of Providence ! 

The school-boys jeered her as they passed, 
And, when she sought the house of prayer, 
Her mother's curse pursued her there. 

And still o'er many a neighboring door 
She saw the horseshoe's curved charm, 
To guard against her mother's harm ; — 

That mother, poor, and sick, and lame, 
Who daily, by the old arm-chair, 
Folded her withered hands in prayer ; — 

Who turned, in Salem's dreary jail, 
Her worn old bible o'er and o'er, 
When her dim eyes could read no more ! 

Sore tried and pained, the poor girl kept 
Her faith, and trusted that her way, 
So dark, would somewhere meet the day. 

So in the shadow Mabel sits ; 

Untouched by mirth she sees and hears, 
Her smile is sadder than her tears. 

But cruel eyes have found her out, 
And cruel lips repeat her name, 
And taunt her with her mother's shame. 

She answered not with railing words, 
But drew her apron o'er her face, 
And, sobbing, glided from the place. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 67 

And only pausing at the door, 

Her sad eyes met the troubled gaze 
Of one who, in her better days, 

Had been her warm and steady friend, 
Ere yet her mother's doom had made 
Even Esek Harden half afraid. 

He felt that mute appeal of tears, 
And, starting, with an angry frown 
Hushed all the wicked murmurs down. 

" Good neighbors mine," he sternly said, 
"This passes harmless mirth or jest ; 
I brook no insult to my guest." 

The broadest lands in all the town, 
The skill to guide, the power to awe, 
Were Harden's ; and his word was law. 

None dared withstand him to his face, 
But one sly maiden spake aside : 
" The little witch is evil-eyed ! 

" Her mother only killed a cow, 
Or witched a churn or dairy -pan ; 
But she, forsooth, must charm a man !" 

Poor Mabel, in her lonely home, 
Sat by the window's narrow pane, 
White in the moonlight's silver rain. 

She strove to drown her sense of w r rong, 
And, in her old and simple way, 
To teach her bitter heart to pray. 



08 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Poor child ! the prayer, begun in faith, 
Grew to a low, despairing cry 
Of ntter misery : " Let me die ! 

" O God ! have mercy on Thy child, 

Whose faith in Thee grows weak and small, 
And take me ere I lose it all !" 

A shadow on the moonlight fell, 

And murmuring wind and wave became 
A voice whose burden was her name. 

Had then God heard her ? Had He sent 
His angel down ? In flesh and blood, 
Before her Esek Harden stood. 

He laid his hand upon her arm ; 

" Dear Mabel, this no more shall be ; 
Who scoffs at you must scoff at me. 

" You know rough Esek Harden well ; 
And if he seems no suitor gay, 
And if his hair is touched with gray, 

" The maiden grown shall never find 

His heart less warm than when she smiled, 
Upon his knees, a little child !" 

" O truest friend of all !" she said, 

" God bless you for your kindly thought, 
And make me worthy of my lot !" 

He led her through his dewy fields, 

To where the swinging lanterns glowed, 
And through the doors the buskers showed. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 69 

"Good friends and neighbors I" Esek said, 
" I'm weary of this lonely life ; 
In Mabel see my chosen wife ! 

" She greets you kindly, one and all ; 
The past is past, and all offence 
Falls harmless from her innocence. 

" Henceforth she stands no more alone ; 
You know what Esek Harden is ; — 
He brooks no wrong to him or his." 

O, pleasantly the harvest moon, 
Between the shadows of the mows, 
Looked on them through the great elm-boughs. 

On Mabel's curls of golden hair, 
On Esek's shaggy strength it fell ; 
And the wind whispered, " It is well !" 

Whittier {Abridged). 

THE KING'S DAUGHTEKS. 

The King's three little daughters, 'neath the 

palace windows straying, 
Had fallen into earnest talk that put an end to 

playing, 
And the weary King smiled once again to hear 

what they were saying. 

"It is I who love our father best!" the eldest 

daughter said ; 
"I am the oldest princess!" and her pretty face 

grew red. 



70 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

"What is there none can do without? I love 
him more than bread !" 

Then said the second princess, with her bright 

blue eyes aflame, 
" Than bread ? A common thing like bread ! 

Thou hast not any shame ! 
Glad am I it is I, not thou, called by our mother's 

name. 

"I love him with a better love than one so tame 

as thine; 
More than — oh, what then shall I say that is both 

bright and fine, 
And is not common ? Yes, I know — I love him 

more than wine !" 

Then the little youngest daughter, whose speech 

would sometimes halt 
For her dreamy way of thinking, said, " You are 

both in fault ; 
'Tis I who love our father best — I love him more 

than salt!" 

Shrill little shrieks of laughter greeted her latest 

words, 
And the two joined hands, exclaiming, " But this 

is most absurd !" 
And the King, no longer smiling, was grieved that 

he had heard, 

For the little youngest daughter, with her eyes 
of steadfast gray, 



SELECTIONS FOE READING AND RECITATION. 71 

Could always move his tenderness, and charm his 

care away. 
"She grows more like her mother dead," he 

whispered, " day by day. 

" But she is very little, and I will find no fault 
That while her sisters strive to see who most shall 

me exalt, 
She holds me nothing dearer than a common 

thing like salt." 

The portly cook was standing in the courtyard by 

the spring ; 
He winked and nodded to himself : " That little 

quiet thing 
Knows more than both the others, as I shall show 

the King." 

That afternoon at dinner there was nothing fit to 

eat; 
The King turned, frowning angrily, from soup and 

fish and meat, 
And he found a cloying sweetness in the dishes 

that were sweet. 

" And yet," he muttered, musing, " I cannot find 

the fault ; 
Not a thing has tasted like itself but this honest 

cup of malt." 
Said the youngest princess, shyly, " Dear father, 

they want salt." 

A sudden look of tenderness shone on the King's 
dark face, 



72 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

As lie sat his little daughter in the dead Queen's 

vacant place ; 
And he thought, " She has her mother's heart — 

aye, and her mother's grace. 

" Great love through smallest channels will find 

its surest way ; 
It waits not state occasions, which may not come, 

or may ; 
It comforts and it blesses hour by hour and day 

by day." 
Margaret Vandcrgrift (From the German). 

THE JUDGMENT OP ST. PANCBATIUS. 

Gkeat Diocletian in his judgment court 
Appeared, by all his pomp of majesty 

Compassed and guarded ; lion-like his port ; 
Then whispered man to man : " That terrible 
eye 

Without yon lictors' axes or their rods 

"Will drive the renegade to his country's gods." 

Pancratius entered — entered with a smile ; 

Bowed to the Emperor ; next to those around, 
First east, then west. The Emperor gazed awhile 

On that bright countenance ; knew its import ; 
frowned : 
"A malefactor known ! Yet there you stand ! 
Young boy, be wise in time. Hold forth your hand ! 

" Yon censer mark ! It comes from Jove's chief 
fane; 
See next yon vase cinctured with flower- attire : 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 73 

Lift from that vase its smallest iucense-grain ; 

Commit it softly to yon censer's fire : 
Your father, boy, was well with me ; and I 
Would rather serve his son than bid him die." 

Pancratius mused a moment, then began : 
" Emperor, 'tis true I am a boy ; no more : 

But one within me changes boy to man, 

Christ — God and Man : that Lord the just adore. 

A pictured lion hangs above thy head : 

Say, can a picture touch man's heart with dread ? 

" Thou, too, great Emperor, art but pictured life : 
He only lives who quickened life in all : 

Men are but shadows : in a futile strife 

They chase each other on a sun-bright wall. 

Shadows are they the hosts that round thee throng; 

Shadows their swords that vindicate this wrong. 

" "What gods are those thou bidst me serve and 
praise ? 
Adulterers, murderers, gods of fraud and theft. 
If slave of thine walked faithful in their ways 

What were his sentence ? Eyes of light bereft ; 
The scourge, the rope ! Our God is good. His 

name 
Paints on His servant's face no flush of shame. 

" Exteriorly, 'tis true, thy gods are great, 
They and their sort : this hour they rule the 
lands : 

Ay, but, expectant at an unbarred gate, 
A greatness of a different order stands, — 



74 CORBECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

The Babe of Bethlehem's. He thy gods shall slay, 
Though small His hand, and rend earth's chain 
away." 

The Emperor shook : as one demon-possessed 
He glared upon that youth ; his wan cheek 
burned : 
With wonder dumb panted his struggling breast : 

Silent to that prsetorian guard he turned — 
He pointed to Pancratius. " Let him die !" 
Pancratius stood, and pointed to the sky. 

Aubrey de Vere. 

THE GOLDEN BBZDGE. 

Let him listen, whoso would know, 
Concerning the wisdom of King Tee Poh. 

Fair is Pekin, with round it rolled 

"Wave on wave of its river of gold ; 

They gird its walls with their ninefold twine, 

And the bridges that cross them are ninety and 

nine. 
And as soon as the wind of morning blows, 
And the gray in the East takes a fleck of rose, 
Upon each bridge 'gins the shuffle and beat 
Of hundreds of hoofs and thousands of feet ; 
And all day long there is dust and dinne 
And the coolie elbows the mandarin, 
And gibe is given and oath and blow — 
'Twas thus in the time of King Tee Poh. 

It grieved the King that it should be so ; 
Then out of his wisdom spoke King Tee Poh : 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 75 

" Build me a hundredth bridge, the best, 
Higher and wider than all the rest, 
With posts of teak and cedarn rails 
And planks of sandal, with silver nails ; 
Gild it and paint it vermilion red, 
And over it place the dragon's head ; 
And be it proclaimed to high and low 
That over this fortunate arch shall go 
Passenger none that doth not throw 
Golden toll to the river below. 
And when the piece of gold is cast, 
Thrice let the trumpets sound a blast : 
And the mandarin write with respectful look 
The passenger's name in a silken book, 
So that I, the King, may have in hand 
The list of the wealthiest of my land." 

Straightway the bridge was builded so 

As had spoken the wisdom of King Tee Poh. 

And every day, from dawn till dark, 

They who watched the fortunate arch could 

mark 
Like a cloud of midges that glow and gleam, 
The gold toll cast to the hurrying stream ; 
And all day the trumpet sounded loud, 
And the mandarin of the guard kowtowed, 
As he wrote the name, with respectful look, 
Of the passenger high in his silken book ; 
And all the while grew the renown 
Of the fortunate arch in Pekin town, 
Till of the wealthiest it was told, 
" He spends his day on the bridge of gold." 



76 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

And when a month and a day were spent, 
The King Tee Poh for his treasurer sent 
" Go to the bridge," said he, " and look 
At the list of names in the silken book, 
And of all that are written, small and great, 
Confiscate to me the estate ; 
As the sage Confucius well doth show, 
A wealthy fool is the State's worst foe." 

And the treasurer whispered, bending low, 
" Great is the wisdom of King Tee Poh." 

George T. Lanigan, in " The Century" 

THE BALLAD OF THE STBANGER. 

T was off the coast of Scarboro' 

In sixteen eighty-three ; 
An April night fell lowering 

Upon an angry sea. 
And on the heights above the town 
Was many a watcher gazing down, 
And murmuring with a shrug and frown : 

" A woeful night 't will be !" 

The wind across the surges 

Came howling to the land ; 
In foaming wrath the breakers 

Came bounding on the strand ; 
When with a voice from turret high 
Sounded aloud that startled cry : 
" A wreck ! a wreck ! — Shoremen ahoy ! 

She's plunging for the land !" 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 11 

Down from the heights went skurryiiig 

The wreckers to the shore, 
And women wild, who seaward smiled 

Hopeful an hour before ! 
The ship — Great God ! — in flames her prow ! — 
The flames are bursting from her bow ! 
She speeds full sail ! — 

Thank Heaven the gale 

Is blowing to the shore ! 

Ked are the waves before her — 

Each crest a flaming brand ! 
With tongues of wrath and fiery breath 

She leaps toward the strand. 
" Ahoy ! ahoy !" — the trumpet rings — 
See ! on the hidden reef she springs ! 
To rock she clings, — 

On rock she swings 

Her larboard to the land. 

A thousand shrieks of terror 

Arise from ship and shore ! 
" Launch ! launch the boats !" — the trumpet 
notes 

Blare out above the roar. 
But every boat, from beach or deck, 
Like shells the breakers crush and wreck. 
Stranded she stood . . . 

In fire and flood . . . 

But a hundred yards from shore. 

Down to the beach a stranger 
Stept calmly thro' the crowd ; 



78 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

He doffed his cloak, and up lie spoke 

With startling voice and loud : 
" Come on with me, the bravest three ! " . . . 
(In yawl they plunged into the sea.) 
" Give me the rope ! — 

Cowards are we, 

To cringe at watery shroud ?" 

Athwart the breakers plunging 

Went gallant men and yawl ; 
A rope they bore, the coil on shore 

Trailed out with snaky crawl. 
See ! heavens ! they sink ! — 

A mountain wave 
Buries them deep in yawning grave ! 
A shriek ! a wail from women pale 

The bravest souls appall. 

Up ! see ! — the dauntless heroes 

Upon the surges rise ! 
"Praise God !" a shout from ship and shore 

Breaks upwards to the skies. 
" Courage !" — peals out that stranger's shout,- 
He strikes the wreck . . . 

He leaps on deck . . 
His rope ties fast to mizzen mast, 

And, " Down the rope /" he cries. 

Swift, one by one, like pigeons 

From startled cote, they pour — 
They glide on rope through breakers 

Hand over hand to shore . . . 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 79 

The flames ! the flames ! 

With hiss and gnash 
Sternward their tongues of fire they flash, 
And on the flames the surges dash 
With seething shriek and roar ! 

The last man's o'er the taffrail — 

Alone the stranger . . . No ! 
Horrors ! — up from the hatchway 

A woman from below ! — 
Clasping her child, in terror wild 
Shrieking : 

" O God ! my child ! my child !" 
To the stranger's breast her babe she prest 

In agony of woe. 

Tho' singed with fire, that hero 

To his breast the babe he bound ; 
Then to the sea leapt mother and he — 

She clasping him around. 
Now on the rope, hand over hand, 
Thro' breakers plunging for the strand — 
" Hold to the rope ! it burns /" 

From land 

Eings out the trumpet-sound. 

A shuddering cry uprises 

From thousands on the lee — 
The rope it parts, and flaming darts 

And hisses in the sea ! 
" Hold to the rope !" 

Alas ! a wave 
O'erwhelms him deep — that hero brave ! 



80 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Down, down they sink into that grave — - 
The mother, babe, and he. 

There is a sudden silence 

Hushes the land in awe, 
As over the sands an hundred hands 

That willing rope they draw. . . . 
" Praise God, the Lord !" 

Bursts sudden cry 
From thousand voices raised on high. . . . 
See ! on the land, above the strand, 
Silent and pale they lie ! 

In fixed grasp that hero 

The rope still firmly holds ! 
And firm his teeth with clench of death 

That mother's sleeve enfolds ! 
Oh, fearful sight ! — more ghastly seem 
Those faces in the lurid gleam. . . . 
But — hark ! he speaks ! 

He stirs ! he wakes ! 
He starts as from a dream ! 

And the mother's lips are quivering 

As if to speak . . . and hark ! 
She calls her child . . . she gazes wild 

Toward the burning barque. 
The stranger smiled ; unbound his breast . . . 
The babe lay smiling in its nest ! 
The mother shrieked in rapture wild : 
" My child ! my child !— 

Thank God ! my child P 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND RECITATION. 81 

The multitude came surging, 

And round that stranger prest, — 
With prayer aud cry that reached the sky 

That hero brave they blest. 
But not a word the stranger spoke . . . 
He calmly smiled, — 

He donned his cloak, 
And, bowing, vanished in the dark. 
" Who teas the hero ?" . . . Eben Staek 1 



BKIDGE OF SIGHS. 

One more Unfortunate, 

Weary of breath, 
Kashly importunate, 

Gone to her death ! 

Take her up tenderly, 
Lift her with care ; — 

Fashioned so slenderly, 
Young, and so fair ! 

Look at her garments, 
Clinging like cerements ; 

Whilst the wave constantly 
Drips from her clothing ; 

Take her up instantly, 
Loving, not loathing. 

Touch her not scornfully, 
Think of her mournfully, 

Gently and humanly ; 
Not of the stains of her, 



82 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

All that remains of her 
Now, is pure womanly. 

Make no deep scrutiny 
Into her mutiny 

Rash and undutiful ; 
Past all dishonor, 
Death has left on her 

Only the beautiful. 

Still, for all slips of hers, 
One of Eve's family — 

Wipe those poor lips of hers, 
Oozing so clammily ; 

Loop up her tresses 

Escaped from the comb, 

Her fair auburn tresses ; 

Whilst wonderment guesses 
Where was her home ? 

Who was her father ? 

Who was her mother ? 

Had she a sister? 

Had she a brother ? 

Or was there a dearer one 
Still, and a nearer one 

Yet, than all other ? 

Alas ! for the rarity 
Of Christian charity 

Under the sun ! 
Oh ! it was pitiful ! 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 89 

Near a whole city full, 
Home she had none. 

Sisterly, brotherl} T , 
Fatherly, motherly, 
* Feelings were changed ; 
Love, by harsh evidence, 
Thrown from its eminence 
Even God's providence 
Seeming estranged. 

Where the lamps quiver 
So far in the river, 

With many a light 
From window and casement, 
From garret to basement, 
She stood, with amazement, 

Houseless by night. 

The bleak winds of March 

Made her tremble and shiver ; 
But not the dark arch, 

Or the black flowing river : 
Mad from life's history, 
Glad to death's mystery 

Swift to be hurled — 
Anywhere, anywhere 

Out of the world ! 

In she plunged boldly, 
No matter how coldly 

The rough river ran, — 
Over the brink of it, 



84 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Picture it, — think of it, 

Dissolute man ! 
Lave in it, drink of it 

Then, if you can ! 

Take her up tenderly, 

Lift her with care ; 
Fashioned so slenderly, 

Young, and so fair ! 
Ere her limbs frigidly 
Stiffen so rigidly, 

Decently, — kindly, — 
Smooth and compose them ; 
And her eyes, close them, 

Staring so blindly ! 

Dreadfully staring 

Through muddy impurity, 
As when with the daring 
Last look of despairing 
Fixed on futurity. 

Perishing gloomily, 
Spurred by contumely, 
Cold inhumanity, 
Burning insanity, 

Into her rest, — 
Cross her hands humbly, 
As if praying dumbly, 

Over her breast ! 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND HESITATION. 85 

Owning her weakness, 

Her evil behavior, 
And leaving, with meekness, 

Her sins to her Saviour ! 

Hood, 

DE PROFUNDIS. 

The face, which, duly as the sun, 
Kose up for me with life begun, 
To mark all bright hours of the day 
With hourly love, is dimmed away, — 
And yet my days go on, go on. 

The tongue, which, like a stream, could run 
Smooth music from the roughest stone, 
And every morning with " Good-day" 
Made each day good, is hushed away, — 
And yet my days go on, go on. 

The heart, which, like a staff, was one 
For mine to lean and rest upon, 
The strongest on the longest day 
With steadfast love, is caught away, — 
And yet my days go on, go on. 

And cold before my summer's done, 
And deaf in Nature's general tune, 
And fallen too low for special fear, 
And here, with hope no longer here, — 
While the tears drop, my days go on. 

The world goes whispering to its own, 
" This anguish pierces to the bone ;" 



86 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

And tender friends go sighing round, 
" What love can ever cure this wound ?" 
My days go on, my days go on. 

The past rolls forward on the sun, 
And makes all night. O dreams begun, 
Not to be ended ! Ended bliss, 
And life that will not end in this ! — 
My days go on, my days go on. 

Breath freezes on my lips to moan : 
As one alone, once not alone, 
I sit and knock at Nature's door, 
Heart-bare, heart-hungry, very poor, 
Whose desolated days go on. 

I knock and cry, Undone, undone ! 
Is there no help, no comfort, — none ? 
No gleaning in the wide wheat-plains 
Where others drive their loaded wains ? — 
My vacant days go on, go on. 

This Nature, though the snows be down, 
Thinks kindly of the bird of June : 
The little red hip on the tree 
Is ripe for such. What is for me , 
Whose days so winterly go on ? 

No bird am I to sing in June, 
And dare not ask an equal boon. 
Good nests and berries red are Nature's 
To give away to better creatures, — 
And yet my days go on, go on. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 87 

I ask less kindness to be done, — 
Only to loose these pilgrim-shoon, 
(Too early worn and grimed) with sweet 
Cool deathly touch to these tired feet, 
Till days go out which now go on. 

Only to lift the turf unmown 
From off the earth where it has grown, 
Some cubit-space, and say, " Behold ! 
Creep in, poor heart, beneath that fold, 
Forgetting how the days go on." 

What harm would that do ? Green anon 
The sward would quicken, overshone 
By skies as blue ; and crickets might 
Have leave to chirp there day and night, 
While my new rest went on, went on. 

From gracious Nature have I won 
Such liberal bounty ? may I run 
So, lizard-like, within her side, 
And there be safe, who now am tried 
By days that painfully go on ? 

— A Voice reproves me thereupon, 

More sweet than Nature's when the drone 

Of bees is sweetest, and more deep 

Than when the rivers overleap 

The shuddering pines, and thunder on. 

God's voice, not Nature's ! Night and noon 
He sits upon the great white throne, 
And listens for the creatures' praise. 



8S CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

What babble we of days and days ? 
The Dayspring He, whose days go on. 

He reigns above, He reigns alone ; 
Systems burn out, and leave His throne ; 
Fair mists of seraphs melt and fall 
Around Him, changeless amid all, — 
Ancient of days, whose days go on. 

He reigns below, He reigns alone, 
And, having life in love foregone 
Beneath the crown of sovran thorns 
He reigns the jealous God. Who mourns 
Or rules with Him, while days go on ? 

By anguish which made pale the sun, 
I hear Him charge His saints that none 
Among His creatures anywhere 
Blaspheme against Him with despair, 
However darkly days go on. 

Take from my head the thorn- wreath brown ! 
No mortal grief deserves that crown. 

supreme love, chief misery, 
The sharp regalia are for Thee 
Whose days eternally go on ! 

For us, whatever's undergone, 
Thou knowest, wiliest, what is done. 
Grief may be joy misunderstood : 
Only the Good discerns the good. 

1 trust Thee while my days go on. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 89 

Whatever's lost, it first was won ; 

We will not struggle nor impugn. 

Perhaps the cup was broken here, 

That heaven's new wine might show more clear. 

I praise Thee while my days go on. 

I praise Thee while my days go on ; 

I love Thee while my days go on ; 

Through dark and dearth, through fire and 

frost, 
With emptied arms and treasure lost, 
I thank Thee wdrile my days go on. 

And having in Thy life-depth thrown 
Being and suffering (which are one), 
As a child drops his pebble small 
Down some deep well, and hears it fall 
Smiling, — so I. Thy days go on. 

Mrs. Browning. 

THE FACE AGAINST THE PANE. 

Mabel, little Mabel, 

With face against the pane, 
Looks out across the night 
And sees the Beacon Light 

A-trembling in the rain. 
• She hears the sea-birds screech, 
And the breakers on the beach 

Making moan, making moan. 
And the wind about the eaves 
Of the cottage sobs and grieves ; 



90 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

And the willow-tree is blown 
To and fro, to and fro, 
Till it seems like some old crone 
Standing out there all alone, 

With her woe, 
Wringing, as she stands, 
Her gaunt and palsied hands ! 
While Mabel, timid Mabel, 

With face against the pane, 
Looks out across the night 
And sees the Beacon Light 

A- trembling in the rain. 

Set the table, maiden Mabel, 

And make the cabin warm ; 
Your little fisher-lover 

Is out there in the storm, 
And your father — you are weeping ! 

O Mabel, timid Mabel, 

Go, spread the supper-table, 
And set the tea a-steeping. 
Your lover's heart is brave, 

His boat is staunch and tight : 
And your father knows the perilous reef 

That makes the water white. 
— But Mabel, darling Mabel, 

With face against the pane, 
Looks out across the night 

At the Beacon in the rain. 

The heavens are veined with fire ! 
And the thunder, how it rolls ! 



SELECTIONS FOli READING AND RECITATION. 91 

111 the lullings of the storm 

The solemn church-bell tolls 

For lost souls ! 
But no sexton sounds the knell 

In that belfry old and high ; 
Unseen fingers sway the bell 

As the wind goes tearing by ! 
How it tolls for the souls 

Of the sailors on the sea ! 
God pity them, God pity them, 

Wherever they may be ! 
God pity wives and sweethearts 

Who wait and wait in vain ! 
And pity little Mabel, 

With face against the pane. 

A boom ! — the Light-house gun ! 

(How its echo rolls and rolls !) 
'Tis to warn the home-bound ships 

Off the shoals ! 
See ! a rocket cleaves the sky 

From the Fort, — a shaft of light ! 
See ! it fades, and, fading, leaves 

Golden furrows on the night ! 
What made Mabel's cheek so pale ? 

What made Mabel's lips so white ? 
Did she see the helpless sail 

That, tossing here and there, 

Like a feather in the air, 
Went down and out of sight ? 
Down, down, and out of sight ! 
Oh, watch no more, no more, 



92 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

With face against the pane ; 
You cannot see the men that drown 
By the Beacon in the rain ! 

From a shoal of richest rubies 

Breaks the morning clear and cold ; 
And the angel on the village spire, 

Frost-touched, is bright as gold. 
Four ancient fishermen, 

In the pleasant autumn air, 
Come toiling up the sands, 
"With something in their hands, — 
Two bodies stark and white, 
Ah, so ghastly in the light, 

With sea-weed in their hair ! 

O ancient fishermen, 

Go up to yonder cot ! 
You'll find a little child, 

With face against the pane, 
Who looks toward the beach, 

And, looking, sees it not. 
She will never watch again ! 

Never watch and weep at night ! 
For those pretty, saintly eyes 
Look beyond the stormy skies, 

And they see the Beacon Light. 

T. B. Aldrich. 

THE GAME KNUT PLAYED. 

A page who seemed of low degree, 
And bore the name of Knut, w r as he ; 
The high-born Princess Hilga she. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 93 

And that the youth had served her long, 
Being quick at errands, skilled in song, 
To jest with him she thought no wrong. 

And so it chanced one summer day, 
At chess, to while the time away, 
The page and princess sat at play. 

At length she said, " To play for naught 
Is only sport to labor brought, 
So let a wager guerdon thought." 

He answered, " Lady, naught have I 
Whose worth might tempt a princess high 
Her uttermost of skill to try." 

" And yet this ruby ring," she said, 

" I'll risk against the bonnet red 

With snow-white plume that crowns thy head. 

" And should I win, do not forget, 
Or should I lose, whichever yet, 
I'll take my due, or pay my debt." 

And so they played, as sank the sun ; 
But when the game they played was done, 
The page's cap the princess won. 

" My diamond necklace," then she cried, 
" I'll match against thy greatest pride, 
The brand held pendent at thy side." 



94 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" Not so," lie said — " that tempered glaive, 
Borne oft by noble hands and brave, 
To me my dying father gave. 

" Fit only for a true man's touch, 
I hold it dear and prize it much — 
No diamond necklace mates with such. 

" But, though my father's ghost be wroth, 
I'll risk the weapon, nothing loth, 
Against thy love and virgin troth." 

Reddened her cheeks at this in ire, 

This daughter of a royal sire, 

And flashed those eyes of hers like fire. 

« Thy words, bold youth, shall work thee ill 
Thou canst not win against my skill, 
But I can punish at my will. 

"Begin the game ; that hilt so fine 
Shall nevermore kiss hand of thine, 
Nor thou again be page of mine !" 

Answered the page : " Do not forget, 
Or win or lose, whichever yet, 
I'll take my due, or pay my debt. 

"And let this truth the end record : 
I risk to-day my father's sword 
To be no more thy page, but lord." 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 95 

Down sat the pair to play once more, 
Hope in his bosom brimming o'er, 
And hers with pride and anger sore. 

From square to square the bishops crept, 
The agile knights eccentric leapt, 
The castles onward stately swept. 

Pawns fell in combat one by one ; 
Knights, rooks, and bishops could not shun 
Their fate before that game was done. 

Well fought the battle was, I ween, 
Until two castles and a queen 
Guarding the kings alone were seen. 

" Check I" cried the princess, all elate ; 

" Check !" cried the page, and sealed the fate 

Of her beleaguered king with " mate !" 

The princess smiled, and said : " I lose, 

Nor can I well to pay refuse — 

From my possessions pick and choose. 

" Or diamonds bright, or chests of gold, 
Or strings of pearls of worth untold, 
These may be thine to have and hold : 

" Or costly robes to feed thy pride, 
Or coursers such as monarchs ride, 
Or castles tall, or manors wide — 



06 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" Any or all of such be thine ; 
But, save he spring from royal line, 
No husband ever can be mine." 

" Nor jewels rich, nor lands in fee, 
Steeds, robes, nor castles pleasure me ; 
Thy love and troth be mine," said he. 

" Nor shalt thou lack of state and pride 
When seated crowned thy lord beside, 
As Knut, the King of Denmark's bride 1" 

Ring marriage-bells from sun to sun, 
And tell the gossips, as they run, 
How Sweden's princess has been won. 

THE HOMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST. 

" So the dreams depart, 
• So the fading phantoms flee, 

And the sharp reality 
Now must act its part. " 

Westwood's " Beads from a Rosary. 

Little Ellie sits alone 

'Mid the beeches of a meadow, 
By a stream- side on the grass, 
And the trees are showering down 
Doubles of their leaves in shadow, 
On her shining hair and face. 

She has thrown her bonnet by, 
And her feet she has been dipping 
In the shallow water's flow ; 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 97 

Now she holds them nakedly 

In her hands, all sleek and dripping, 
While she rocketh to and fro. 

Little Ellie sits alone, 
And the smile she softly uses 
Fills the silence like a speech, 
While she thinks what shall be done, 
And the sweetest pleasure chooses 
For her future within reach. 

Little Ellie in her smile 

Chooses, " I will have a lover, 
Riding on a steed of steeds. 
He shall love me without guile, 
And to him I will discover 

The swan's nest among the reeds. 

" And the steed shall be red-roan, 
And the lover shall be noble, 

With an eye that takes the breath. 
And the lute he plays upon 
Shall strike ladies into trouble, 
As his sword strikes men to death. 

" And the steed it shall be shod 
All in silver, housed in azure ; 

And the mane shall swim the wind ; 
And the hoofs along the sod 

Shall flash onward, and keep measure, 
Till the shepherds look behind. 



98 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" But my lover will not prize 
All the glory that he rides in, 
When he gazes in my face. 
He will say, * O Love, thine eyes 
Build the shrine my soul abides in, 
And I kneel here for thy grace !' 

" Then, ay, then he shall kneel low, 
With the red-roan steed anear him, 
Which shall seem to understand, 
Till I answer, 'Rise and go !' 
For the world must love and fear him 
Whom I gift with heart and hand. 

" Then he will arise so pale, 
I shall feel my own lips tremble 
With a yes I must not say : 
Nathless maiden-brave, ' Farewell,' 
I will utter, and dissemble — 
' Light to-morrow with to-day !' 

" Then he'll ride among the hills 
To the wide world past the river, 
There to put away all wrong, 
To make straight distorted wills, 
And to empty the broad quiver 
Which the wicked bear along. 

" Three times shall a young foot-page 
Swim the stream, and climb the mountain, 
And kneel down beside my feet : 
* Lo ! my master sends this gage, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 99 

Lady, for thy pity's counting. 
What wilt thou exchange for it ?' 



" And the first time I will send 
A white rosebud for a guerdon : 
And the second time, a glove ; 
But the third time I may bend 

From my pride, and answer, — ' Pardon, 
If he comes to take my love.' 

" Then the young foot-page will run ; 
Then my lover will ride faster, 
Till he kneeleth at my knee : 
1 1 am a duke's eldest son, 
Thousand serfs do call me master, 
But, Love, I love but thee V 

" He will kiss me on the mouth 
Then, and lead me as a lover 

Through the crowds that praise his 
deeds. 
And, when soul-tied by one troth, 
Unto him I will discover 
That swan's nest among the reeds." 

Little Ellie, with her smile 
Not yet ended, rose up gayly, 

Tied the bonnet, donned the shoe, 
And went homeward, round a mile, 
Just to see, as she did daily, 

What more eggs were with the two. 



100 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Pushing through the elm -tree copse, 
Winding up the stream, light-hearted, 
Where the osier pathway leads, 
Past the boughs she stoops, and stops. 
Lo, the wild swan had deserted, 
And a rat had gnawed the reeds ! 

Ellie went home sad and slow. 
If she found the lover ever, 

With his red-roan steed of steeds, 
Sooth I know not ; but I know 
She could never show him — never, 
That swan's nest among the reeds. 

Mrs. Broioning. 

A MESSAGE. 

It was Spring in "the great city — every gaunt and 
withered tree 

Felt the shaping and the stir at heart of leafy 
prophecy ; 

All the wide- spread umber branches took a ten- 
der tint of green, 

And the chattering brown-backed sparrow lost 
his pert, pugnacious mien 

In a dream of mate and nestlings shaded by a 
verdant screen. 

It was Spring — the grim ailanthus, with its snaky 

arms awry, 
Held out meagre tufts and bunches to the sun's 

persistency : 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 101 

Every little square of greensward, railed in from 

the dusty way, 
Sent its straggling forces upward, blade and spear 

in bright array, 
While the migratory organs Offenbach aud 

Handel play. 

Through the heart of the vast Babel, where the 

tides of being pour, 
From his labor in the evening came the sturdy 

stevedore, 
Towering like a son of Anak, of a coarse, ungainly 

mould ; 
Yet the hands begrimed and blackened in the 

hardened fingers hold 
A dandelion blossom, shining like a disk of gold. 

Wayside flower ! with thy plucking did remem- 
brance gently lay 

Her hand upon the tomb of youth and roll the 
stone away? 

Did he see a barefoot urchin wander singing up 
the lane, 

Carving from the pliant willow whistles to pro- 
long the strain, 

While the browsing cows, slow driven, chime 
their bells in low refrain ? 

Did his home rise up before him, and his child, 

all loving glee, 
Hands and arms in eager motion for the golden 

mystery ? 



102 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Or the fragile, pallid mother, seeing in that starry 
eye 

God's eternal, fadeless garden, God's wide sun- 
shine and His sky, 

Hers through painless, endless ages, bright'ning 
through immensity ? 

None may know — the busy workings of the brain 

remain untold, 
But the loving deed — the outgrowth — brings us 

lessons manifold. 
Smiles and frowns — a look — a flower growing by 

the common way, 
Trifles born with every hour make the sum of 

life's poor day, 
And the jewels that we garner are the tears we 

wipe away. 

Scribner's Monthly. 

"WASHINGTON". 

It matters very little what spot may have been 
the birthplace of Washington. No people can 
claim, no country can appropriate him. The 
boon of Providence to the human race, his fame 
is eternity, and his residence creation. Though 
it was the defeat of our arms, and the disgrace of 
our policy, I almost bless the convulsion in which 
he had his origin. If the heavens thundered, and 
the earth rocked, yet, when the storm had passed, 
how pure was the atmosphere that it cleared ! 
How bright, on the brow of the firmament, was 
the planet which it revealed to us ! 



SELECTIONS FOIi READING AND RECITATION 103 

In the production of Washington, it seems as if 
Nature was endeavoring to improve upon herself, 
and that all the virtues of the ancient world were 
but so many studies preparatory to the patriot 
of the new. Individual instances, no doubt, there 
were, splendid exemplifications of some singular 
qualification. Caosar was merciful, Scipio was 
temperate, Hannibal was patient ; but it was re- 
served for Washington to blend them all in one, 
and like the lovely masterpiece of the Grecian 
artist, to exhibit, in one glow of associated beauty, 
the pride of every model, and the perfection of 
every master. 

As a general he marshalled the farmer into a 
veteran, and supplied by discipline the absence 
of experience. As a statesman he enlarged the 
policy of the cabinet into the most comprehensive 
system of general advantage ; and such was the 
wisdom of his views, and the philosophy of his 
counsels, that to the soldier and statesman he 
almost added the character of the sage ! A con- 
queror, he was untainted with the crime of blood ; 
a revolutionist, he was free from any stain of 
treason, for aggression commenced the contest, 
and his country called him to command. Liberty 
unsheathed his sword, necessity stained, victory 
returned it. 

If he had paused here, history might have 
doubted what station to assign him, whether at 
the head of her citizens or her soldiers, her heroes 
or her patriots. But the last glorious act crowns 
his career, and banishes all hesitation. Who like 



104 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Washington, after Laving emancipated a hemi- 
sphere, resigned its crown, and preferred the 
retirement of domestic life to the adoration of a 
land he might almost be said to have created ? 
Happy, proud America! The lightnings of 
heaven yielded to her philosophy. The tempta- 
tions of earth could not seduce her patriotism. 

Charles Phillips. 

•■ PEKSEVEBE." 

Robeet, the Bruce, in the dungeon stood 

Waiting the hour of doom ; 
Behind him the Palace of Holyrood, 

Before him, a nameless tomb. 
And the foam on his lip was flecked with red, 
As away to the past his memory sped, 
Up calling the day of his great renown 
When he won and he wore the Scottish crown ; 

Yet come there shadow, or come there shine, 

The spider is spinning his thread so fine. 

" I have sat on the royal seat of Scone," 

He muttered, below his breath ; 
" It's a luckless change, from a kingly throne 

To a felon's shameful death." 
And he clinched his hand in his despair, 
And he struck at the shapes that were gathering 

there 
Pacing his cell in impatient rage, 
As a new-caught lion paces his cage. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 106 

" Oli, were it my fate to yield up my life 

At the head of my liegemen all ! 
In the foremost shock of the battle-strife 

Breaking my country's thrall, 
I'd welcome death from the foeman's steel, 
Breathing a prayer for old Scotland's weal ; 
But here, where no pitying heart is nigh, 
By a loathsome hand, it is hard to die . 

" Time and again have I fronted the pride 

Of the tyrant's vast array. 
But only to see, on the crimson tide, 

My hopes swept far away. 
Now a landless chief, and a crownless king, 
On the broad, broad earth not a living thing 
To keep me court, save yon insect small 
Striving to reach from wall to wall. 

" Work — work as a fool, as I have done, 
To the loss of your time and pain — 

The space is too wide to be bridged across, 
You but waste your strength in vain." 

And Bruce for the moment forgot his grief, 

His soul now filled with the same belief, 

That howsoever the issue went, 

For evil or good was the omen sent. 

As a gambler watches his turning card 

On which his all is staked ; 
As a mother waits for the hopeful word 

For which her soul has ached ; 



106 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

It was thus Bruce watched, with every sense 
Centred alone in that look intense ; 
All rigid he stood with unuttered breath, 
Now white, now red, but still as death. 

Six several times the creature tried, 

When at the seventh : " See — see ! 
He has spanned it over," the captive cried — 

" Lo ! a bridge of hope to me ; 
Thee, God, I thank — for this lesson here 
Has tutored my soul to Persevere !" 
And it served him well, for ere long he wore 
In freedom the Scottish crown once more ; 

And come there shadow, or come there shine, 

The spider is spinning his thread so fine. 

John Brougham. 

THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS. 

This is the ship of pearl which, poets feign, 
Sails the unshadowed main : 
The venturous bark that flings 
On the sweet summer wind its purple wings 
In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, 
And coral reefs lie bare ; 

Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their 
streaming hair. 

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl ; 

Wrecked is the ship of pearl ! 

And every chambered cell 

Where its dim- dreaming life was wont to dwell, 

As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 107 

Before thee lies revealed : 

Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed. 

Year after year beheld the silent toil 
That spread the lustrous coil : 
Still as the spiral grew, 

He left the past year's dwelling for the new, 
Stole with soft step its shining doorway through, 
Built up its idle door, 

Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the 
old no more. 

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by 

thee, 
Child of the wandering sea, 
Cast from her lap, forlorn ! 
From thy dead lips a clearer note is born 
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn ! 
While on mine ear it rings, 
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice 

that sings : 

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, 
As the swift seasons roll ! 
Leave thy low- vaulted past ! 
Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, 
Till thou at length art free, 

Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting 
sea. 

Oliver W. Holmes. 



108 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 
CHABONDAS. 

He lifted his forehead and stood at his height, 
And gathered his cloak round his noble age, 
This man, the law-giver, Charondas the Greek : 
And loud the Euboeans called to him : " Speak, 
We listen and learn, O Sage !" 

" In peace shall ye come where the people be," 
Spake the lofty figure with flashing eyes : 
" But whoso comes armed to the public hall 
Shall suffer his death before us all." 
And the hearers believed him wise. 

The years sped quick, and the years dragged 
slow: 

In council oft was the throne arrayed. 
But never the statued chamber saw 
The gleam of weapon ; for loving law 

The Greeks from their hearts obeyed. 

"War's challenge knocked at the city gates : 
Students flocked to the front, grown bold : 
The strong men, girded, faced up to the North : 
The women wept to the gods ; and forth 
Went the brave of the days of old. 

Peace winged her flight to the city gates : 
Young men and strong, they followed fast 
Back to the breast of their fair, free land : 
Charondas, afar on the foreign strand, 
Kemained at his post the last. 



SELECTIONS FOli READING AND REGIT A TION. 1 < 

Their leader he, in war as in word, 
The fire of youth for his life-long lease, 
The strength of Mars in the arm that stood 
Seven hot decades upheld for good 
In the turbulent courts of Greece. 

The fight is finished, the council meets. 

Who is the tardy comer without, 

In cuirass and shield, and with clanking sword, 
Who strides up the aisles without a word, 

Bousing that awe-struck shout ? 

The tardy comer, home from the field, 
Great gods ! the first to forget and belie 
The law he honored, the law he formed : 
" Charondas, stand ! You enter armed" 
With a shudder the hundreds cry. 

The men who loved him on every side, 

The men he led to the victors' gain. 

He paused a moment, the fearless Greek, 
A sudden glow on his ashen cheek, 

A sudden thought in his brain. 

" I seal the law with my soul and might : 
I do not break it," Charondas said. 

He raised his blade, and plunged to the hilt ; 

Ah ! vain they rush, for in glory and guilt, 
He lay on the marble, dead. 

Louise Imogen Guiney. 



110 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 
AMERICA'S DEBT TO FRANCE. 

It may perhaps be suggested that the fact that 
France lavished her favors on the American peo- 
ple in the past does not explain her present ac- 
tion. Logically — the objector may say — America 
should send bronze statues to France, not France 
to America. We never sent armed men to her 
aid when all Europe was banded against her. 
While her land was overrun, and German, Rus- 
sian, English armies swept over her fields and 
towns, leaving a track of ruin behind them, only 
French blood was shed in her behalf. Our ships 
did not go down with French ships at Trafalgar, 
our treasure did not melt away in the fiery fur- 
nace of French tribulation and German triumph. 
If we are paying taxes to support our credit and 
diminish our debt, no part of that debt was in- 
curred to save French interests or French terri- 
tory. True — but he knows little of the hidden 
springs that control human action who does not 
know that there is no gratitude like that which is 
felt by the benefactor. It is far easier to forget 
the favors that we have received than those that 
we have conferred. That pattern of shrewd 
worldly wisdom, Benjamin Franklin, ingenuously 
tells us that when he wanted to secure the good- 
will of influential men he always sought to place 
himself under some slight obligation ; he bor- 
rowed (and returned) a book, or asked some 
small service. The obligation incurred was never 
heavy enough to trouble Mm, but it always en- 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND RECITATION. Ill 

couraged the other party to renewed bounty. 
The habit of generosity is apt to grow with exer- 
cise, and it is precisely because France was the 
friend and loyal ally of America upward of a cen- 
tury ago, that she is now ready, and always has 
been, to testify the warmth and fidelity of her at- 
tachment. And if there ever has been at any 
time, on the face of our friendship, coldness or 
estrangement, or the appearance of it, such a 
change has never been exhibited by France. 

If I were called upon to pick out from the 
mass of concurring testimony proof of the price- 
less value of French aid to the American colo- 
nies, I should go to that dark and dreary winter 
at Valley Forge, when even the stoutest hearts 
were despondent. All that makes victory possi- 
ble was absent, except courage and faith, and 
they were fast failing before the cruel blows of 
adverse fortune. What must other men have 
thought of the future and its promises when 
"Washington from the midst of his shivering, half- 
clad, and half -fed followers, wrote this : " Unless 
some great and capital change takes place the 
army must be inevitably reduced to one or other 
of three things — starve, dissolve, or disperse." 

Only a miracle could save the cause ! Who 
would help the struggling band of enthusiasts 
that had nothing to offer as a reward for the aid 
which they prayed for ? Was it not against all 
history and experience that the vanquished cause 
should so commend itself to the world that 
troops, and money, and friends, and sympathy 



112 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

from strangers — strangers in blood, in tastes, in 
language — should be provided as though a rich 
return were sure to follow ? It all came, and 
strangely enough, the prime mover in the battle 
against monarchy was a king, the volunteers in 
the people's fight were nobles, the treasury that 
made success possible came from a well-nigh 
bankrupt state ! If logic had had a voice in 
French councils, and French sentiment had not 
guided French action, Lafayette would have stayed 
at home, Louis XVI. would have closed his royal 
ear to these earnest appeals, French gold would 
have remained in French hands, and the galaxy 
of bright, brave, loyal, chivalrous marquises, 
dukes, and counts would never have fought, 
flirted, suffered, danced, and — died on American 
soil. 

Frederic R. Coudert. 



HAEMOSAN. 

Now the third and fatal conflict for the Persian 

throne was done, 
And the Moslem's fiery valor had the crowning 

victory won. 

Harmosan, the last and boldest the invader to 
defy, 

Captive, overborne by numbers, they were bring- 
ing forth to die. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 113 

Then exclaimed that noble captive : " Lo, I per- 
ish in my thirst ; 

Give me but one drink of water, and then arrive 
the worst I" 

In his hand he took the goblet, but, awhile, the 

draught forbore, 
Seeming doubtfully the purpose of the foeman 

to explore. 

Well might then have paused the bravest — for, 

around him, angry foes 
With a hedge of naked weapons did that lonely 
man enclose. 

"But what fearest thou?" cried the caliph, "is 
it, friend, a secret blow ? 

Fear it not ! — our gallant Moslem no such treach- 
erous dealing know. 

" Thou may'st quench thy thirst securely, for 

thou shalt not die before 
Thou hast drunk that cup of water — this reprieve 

is thine — no more !" 

Quick the Satrap dashed the goblet down to 
earth with ready hand, 

And the liquid sank for ever, lost amid the burn- 
ing sand. 

" Thou hast said that mine my life is, till the 

water of that cup 
I have drained, then bid thy servants that spilled 

water gather up !" 



114 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

For a moment stood the caliph as by doubtful 

passions stirred — 
Then exclaimed, " For ever sacred must remain 

a monarch's word. 

" Bring another cup, and straightway to the no- 
ble Persian give : 

Drink, I said before, and perish — now I bid thee 
drink and live !" 

Richard C. Trench. 



THE HAVEN. 

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, 
weak and weary, 

Over many a quaint and curious volume of for- 
gotten lore — 

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there 
came a tapping, 

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my 
chamber-door. 

" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, " tapping at my 
chamber-door — 

Only this, and nothing more." 

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak 

December, 
And each separate dying ember wrought its 

ghost upon the floor. 
Eagerly I wished the morrow : vainly I had 

sought to borrow 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 115 

From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for 
the lost Lenore — 

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the an- 
gels name Lenore — 

Nameless here forevermore. 

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each 

purple curtain 
Thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors 

never felt before; 
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I 

stood repeating, 
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my 

chamber-door, — 
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my 

chamber-door ; 

That it is, and nothing more." 

Presently my soul grew stronger : hesitating then 
no longer, 

" Sir," said I, " or Madam, truly your forgive- 
ness I implore ; 

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you 
came rapping, 

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my 
chamber-door, 

That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I 
opened wide the door : 

Darkness there, and nothing more. 

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood 
there, wondering, fearing, 



116 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever 
dared to dream before ; 

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness 
gave no token, 

And the only word there spoken was the whis- 
pered word " Lenore ?" 

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back 
the word, "Lenore!" 

Merely this, and nothing more. 

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul 
within me burning, 

Soon again I heard a tapping something louder 
than before. 

" Surely," said I, " surely that is something at 
my window-lattice ; 

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mys- 
tery explore, — 

Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery 
explore ; — 

"lis the wind, and nothing more." 

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many 

a flirt and flutter, 
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly 

days of yore. 
Not the least obeisance made he ; not a minute 

stopped or stayed he ; 
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above 

my chamber-door, — 



SELECTIONS FOli READING AND RECITATION 117 

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my 
chamber-door — 

Perched, and sat, and nothing more. 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy 
into smiling, 

By the grave and stern decorum of the coun- 
tenance it wore, 

" Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," 
I said, " art sure no craven, 

Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering 
from the Nightly shore, 

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's 
Plutonian shore !" 

Quoth the raven, " Nevermore !" 

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear dis- 
course so plainly, 

Though its answer little meaning — little rele- 
vancy bore ; 

For we cannot help agreeing that no living 
human being 

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his 
chamber-door — 

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above 
his chamber-door, 

With such name as " Nevermore !" 

But the raven sitting lonely on the placid bust, 

spoke only 
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he 

did outpour. 



118 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Nothing further then he uttered — not a feather 

then he fluttered — 
Till I scarcely more than muttered, " Other 

friends have flown before : 
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes 

have flown before." 

Then the bird said, " Nevermore !" 

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so 
aptly spoken, 

" Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only 
stock and store, 

Caught from some unhappy master, whom un- 
merciful disaster 

Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs 
one burden bore, — 

Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy bur- 
den bore, 

Of ' Never — nevermore !' " 



But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into 

smiling, 
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of 

bird, and bust, and door ; 
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself 

to linking 
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous 

bird of yore — 
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and 

ominous bird of yore 

Meant in croaking " Nevermore !" 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND RECITATION 1 1 9 

Tliis I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable 
expressing 

To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into 
my bosom's core ; 

This and more I sat divining, with my head at 
ease reclining 

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp- 
light gloated o'er, 

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp- 
light gloating o'er 
She shall press — ah, nevermore ! 

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed 
from an unseen censer, 

Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on 
the tufted floor. 

" Wretch," I cried, " thy God hath lent thee— by 
these angels he hath sent thee 

Kespite — respite and nepenthe from thy memo- 
ries of Lenore ! 

Quaff, oh, quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget 
this lost Lenore !" 

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore !" 

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! — prophet 

still, if bird or devil ! 
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed 

thee here ashore, 
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land 

enchanted — 
On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, 

I implore — 



120 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Is there — is there balm in Gilead ? — tell me — tell 
me, I implore !" 

Quoth the raven, " Nevermore !" 

" Prophet !" said I, " thing of evil ! — prophet 
still, if bird or devil ! 

By that heaven that bends above us, by that 
God we both adore, 

Tell this soul, with sorrow laden, if, within the 
distant Aidenn, 

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels 
name Lenore ; 

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the an- 
gels name Lenore !" 
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore !" 

" Be that word our sign of parting, bird or 

fiend !" I shrieked, upstarting : 
" Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's 

Plutonian shore ! 
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy 

soul hath spoken ! 
Leave my loneliness unbroken ! — quit the bust 

above my door ! 
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy 

form from off my door !" 

Quoth the raven, " Nevermore !" 

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still 

is sitting 
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my 

chamber-door ; 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 121 

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's 

that is dreaming, 
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws 

his shadow on the floor ; 
And my soul from ont that shadow that lies 
floating on the floor 

Shall be lifted — nevermore. 

Edgar A. Poe. 

MONEY MUSK. 1 

Ah, the buxom girls that helped the boj-s — 
The nobler Helens of humbler Troys — 
As they stripped the husks with rustling fold, 
From eight-rowed corn as yellow as gold, 

By the candle-light in pumpkin bowls, 
And the gleams that showed fantastic holes 
In the quaint old lantern's tatooed tin, 
From the hermit glim set up within ; 

By the rarer light in girlish eyes 
As dark as wells, or as blue as skies. 
I hear the laugh when the ear is red, 
I see the blush with the forfeit paid, 

The cedar cakes with the ancient twist, 
The cider cup that the girls have kissed. 
And I see the fiddler through the dusk 
As he twangs the ghost of "Money Musk !" 

1 Exercise on stress, median and thorough. 



122 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

The boys and girls in a double row 
Wait face to face till the magic bow 
Shall whij3 the tune from the violin, 
And the merry pulse of the feet begin. 

MONEY MUSK. 

In shirt of check, and tallowed hair, 
The fiddler sits in the bulrush chair 
Like Moses' basket stranded there 

On the brink of Father Nile. 
He feels the fiddle's slender neck, 
Picks out the notes with thrum and check, 
And times the tune, with nod and beck, 

And thinks it a weary while. 
All ready ! Now he gives the call, 
Cries, " Honor to the ladies /" All 
The jolly tides of laughter fall 

And ebb in a happy smile. 

D-o-w-n comes the bow on every string, 
"First couple join right hands and swing!" 
As light as any blue-bird's wing 

" Swing once and a half times round." 
Whirls Mary Martin all in blue — 
Calico gown and stockings new, 
And tinted eyes that tell you true, 

Dance all to the dancing sound. 

She flits about big Moses Brown, 

Who holds her hands to keep her down, 

And thinks her hair a golden crown 

And his heart turns over once ! 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 123 

His cheek with Mary's breath is wet, 
He gives a second somerset ! 
He means to win the maiden yet, 

Alas, for the awkward dunce ! 

"Your stoga boot has crushed my toe!" 
" I'd rather dance with one-legged Joe !" 
" You clumsy fellow !" " Pass below /" 

And the first pair dance apart. 
Then " Forward six /" advance, retreat, 
Like midges gay in sunbeam street. 
'Tis Money Musk by merry feet 

And the Money Musk by heart ! 

" Three quarters round your partner swing /" 
11 Across the set /" The rafters ring, 
The girls and boys have taken wing 

And have brought their roses out ! 
'Tis " Forward six/" with rustic grace, 
Ah, rarer far than — " Swing to place /" 
Than golden clouds of old point-lace, 

They bring the dance about. 

Then clasping hands all — " Right and left /" 
All swiftly weave the measure deft » 
Across the woof in loving weft, 

And the Money Musk is done! 
Oh, dancers of the rustling husk, 
Good-night, sweethearts, 'tis growing dusk, 
Good-night for aye to Money Musk, 

For the heavy march begun ! 

Benjamin F. Taylor. 



124 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 
THE BELL OF ATBI. 

At Atri in Abruzzo, a small town 

Of ancient Roman date, but scant renown, 

The Re Giovanni, now unknown to fame, 

So many monarchs since have borne the name, 

Had a great bell hung in the market-place 

Beneath a roof, projecting some small space, 

By way of shelter from the sun and rain. 

Then rode he through the streets with all his 

train, 
And, with the blast of trumpets loud and long, 
Made proclamation, that whenever wrong 
Was done to any man, he should but ring 
The great bell in the square, and he, the King, 
Would cause the Syndic to decide thereon. 
Such was the proclamation of King John. 

How swift the happy days in Atri sped, 
What wrongs were righted need not here be said. 
Suffice it that, as all things must decay, 
The hempen rope at length was worn away, 
Unravelled at the end, and, strand by strand, 
Loosened and wasted in the ringer's hand, 
Till one, who noted this in passing by, 
Mended the rope with braids of briony, 
So that the leaves and tendrils of the vine 
Hung like a votive garland at a shrine. 

By chance it happened that in Atri dwelt 
A knight, with spur on heel and sword in belt, 
Who loved to hunt the wild-boar in the woods, 
Who loved his falcons with their crimson hoods, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 125 

Who loved his hounds and horses, and all sports 
And prodigalities of camps and courts ; — 
Loved, or had loved them ; for at last, grown old, 
His only passion was the love of gold. 

He sold his horses, sold his hawks and hounds, 
Rented his vineyards and his garden grounds, 
Kept but one steed, his favorite steed of all, 
To starve and shiver in a naked stall, 
And day by day sat brooding in his chair, 
Devising plans how best to hoard and spare. 

At length he said : " What is the use or need 

To keep at my own cost this lazy steed, 

Eating his head off in my stables here, 

When rents are low and provender is dear ? 

Let him go feed upon the public ways ; 

I want him only for the holidays." 

So the old steed was turned into the heat 

Of the long, lonely, silent, shadeless street ; 

And wandered in suburban lanes forlorn, 

Barked at by dogs, and torn by brier and thorn. 

One afternoon, as in that sultry clime 

It is the custom in the summer time, 

With bolted doors and window-shutters closed, 

The inhabitants of Atri slept or dozed ; 

When suddenly upon their senses fell 

The loud alarum of the accusing bell ! 

The Syndic started from his deep repose, 

Turned on his couch, and listened, and then rose 

And donned his robes, and with reluctant pace 



126 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Went panting forth into the market-place, 
Where the great bell upon its cross-beam swung, 
Reiterating with persistent tongue, 
Irj half-articulate jargon, the old song : 
" Some one hath done a wrong, hath done a 
wrong!" 

But ere he reached the belfry's light arcade 
He saw, or thought he saw, beneath its shade, 
No shape of human form of woman born, 
But a poor steed dejected and forlorn, 
Who with uplifted head and eager eye 
Was tugging at the vines of briony. 
" Domenedclio !" cried the Syndic straight, 
'• This is the Knight of Atri's steed of state ! 
He calls for justice, being sore distressed, 
And pleads his cause as loudly as the best." 

Meanwhile from street and lane a noisy crowd 
Had rolled together like a summer cloud, 
And told the story of the wretched beast 
In five-and-twenty different ways at least, 
With much gesticulation and appeal 
To heathen gods, in their excessive zeal. 
The Knight was called and questioned ; in reply 
Did not confess the fact, did not deny ; 
Treated the matter as a pleasant jest, 
And set at naught the Syndic and the rest, 
Maintaining, in an angry undertone, 
That he should do what pleased him with his 
own. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 127 

And thereupon the Syndic gravely read 

The proclamation of the King ; then said : 

" Pride goeth forth on horseback grand and gay, 

But cometh back on foot, and begs its way ; 

Fame is the fragrance of heroic deeds, 

Of flowers of chivalry and not of weeds ! 

These are familiar proverbs ; but I fear 

They never yet have reached your knightly ear. 

What fair renown, what honor, what repute 

Can come to you from starving this poor brute ? 

He who serves well and speaks not, merits more 

Than they who clamor loudest at the door. 

Therefore the law decrees that as this steed 

Served you in youth, henceforth you shall take 

heed 
To comfort his old age, and to provide 
Shelter in stall, and food, and field beside." 



The knight withdrew abashed ; the people all 
Led home the steed in triumph to his stall. 
The King heard and approved, and laughed in 

glee, 
And cried aloud : " Eight well it pleaseth me ! 
Church-bells at best but ring us to the door ; 
But go not in to mass ; my bell doth more : 
It cometh into court and pleads the cause 
Of creatures dumb and unknown to the laws ; 
And this shall make, in every Christian clime, 
The Bell of Atri famous for all time." 

Longfellow, 



128 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION 
THE LIFEBOAT. 

You've heerd of the Royal Helen, the ship as was 

wrecked last year ? 
Yon be the rock she struck on — the boat as went 

out be here ; 
The night as she struck was reckoned the worst 

as ever we had, 
And this is a coast in winter where the weather 

be awful bad. 
The beach here was strewed with wreckage, and 

to tell you the truth, sir, then 
"Was the only time as ever we'd a bother to get 

the men. 
The single chaps was willin', and six on 'em vol- 
unteered, 
But most on us here is married, and the wives 

that night was skeered. 

Our women ain't chicken-hearted when it comes 

to savin' lives, 
But death that night looked certain — and our 

wives be only wives ; 
Their lot ain't bright at the best, sir ; but here, 

when the man lies dead, 
'Tain't only a husband missin', it's the children's 

daily bread ; 
So our women began to whimper and beg o' the 

chaps to stay — 
I only heerd on it after, for that night I was 

kept away. 
I was up at my cottage, yonder, where the wife 

lay nigh her end, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 129 

She'd been ailin' all the winter, and nothin' 'ud 
make her mend. 

The doctor had given her up, sir, and I knelt by 

her side and prayed, 
With my eyes as red as a babby's, that Death's 

hand might yet be stayed. 
I heerd the wild wind howlin', and I looked on 

the wasted form, 
And thought of the awful shipwreck as had come 

in the ragin' storm ; 
The wreck of my little homestead — the wreck of 

my dear old wife, 
"Who'd sailed with me forty years, sir, o'er the 

troublous waves of life, 
And I looked at the eyes so sunken, as had been 

my harbor lights, 
To tell of the sweet home haven in the wildest, 

darkest nights. 

She knew she was sinkin' quickly, she knew as 

her end was nigh, 
But she never spoke o' the troubles as I knew on 

her heart must lie, 
For we'd had one great big sorrow with Jack, our 

only son — 
He'd got into trouble in London, as lots o' the 

lads ha' done ; 
Then he'd bolted, his masters told us — he was 

alius what folk call wild. 
From the day as I told his mother, her dear face 

never smiled. 



130 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

We heerd no more about him, we never knew 
where he went, 

And his mother pined and sickened for the mes- 
sage he never sent. 

I had my work to think of ; but she had her 

grief to nurse, 
So it eat away at her heartstrings, and her health 

grew worse and worse. 
And the night as the Royal Helen went down on 

yonder sands, 
I sat and watched her dyin', holdin' her wasted 

hands. 
She moved in her doze a little, then her eyes 

were opened wide, 
And she seemed to be seekin' somethin', as she 

looked from side to side ; 
Then half to herself she whispered, "Where's 

Jack, to say good-bye ? 
It's hard not to see my darlin', and kiss him 

afore I die !" 

I was stoopin' to kiss and soothe her, while the 

tears ran down my cheek, 
And my lips were shaped to whisper the words I 

couldn't speak, 
When the door of the room burst open, and my 

mates were there outside 
With the news that the boat was launchin'. 

"You're wanted !" their leader cried. 
" You've never refused to go, John ; you'll put 

these cowards right 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 131 

There's a dozen of lives maybe, John, as lie in our 

hands to-night!" 
'Twas old Ben Brown, the captain ; he'd laughed 

at the women's doubt. 
We'd alius been first on the beach, sir, when 

the boat was goin' out. 

I didn't move, but I pointed to the white face on 

the bed — 
" I can't go, mate," I murmured; "in an hour 

she may be dead. 
I cannot go and leave her to die in the night 

alone." 
As I spoke Ben raised his lantern, and the light 

on my wife was thrown ; 
And I saw her eyes fixed strangely with a plead- 
ing look on me, 
While a tremblin' finger pointed through the 

door to the ragin' sea. 
Then she beckoned me near, and whispered, " Go, 

and God's will be done ! 
For every lad on that ship, John, is some poor 

mother's son." 

Her head was full of the boy, sir — she was think- 
ing, maybe, some day 

For lack of a hand to help him his life might be 
cast away. 

" Go, John, and the Lord watch o'er you ! and 
spare me to see the light, 

And bring you safe," she whispered, " out of the 
storm to-night." 



132 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Then I turned and kissed her softly, and tried to 

hide my tears, 
And my mates outside, when they saw me, set up 

three hearty cheers ; 
But I rubbed my eyes wi' my knuckles, and 

turned to old Ben and said, 
"I'll see her again, maybe, lad, when the sea 

gives up its dead." 

We launched the boat in the tempest, though 

death was the goal in view, 
And never a one but doubted if the craft could 

live it through ; 
But our boat she stood it bravely, and, weary and 

wet and weak, 
We drew in hail of the vessel we had dared so 

much to seek. 
But just as we come upon her she gave a fearful 

roll, 
And went down in the seethin' whirlpool with 

every livin' soul ! 
We rowed for the spot, and shouted, — for all 

around was dark, — 
But only the wild wind answered the cries from 

our plungin' bark. 

I was strainin' my eyes and watchin', when I 

thought I heerd a cry, 
And I saw past our bows a somethin' on the crest 

of a wave dashed by ; 
I stretched out my hand to seize it. I dragged 

it aboard, and then 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 133 

I stumbled, and struck my forrud, aud fell like a 

log on Ben. 
I remember a hum of voices, and then I knowed 

no more 
Till I came to my senses, here, sir — here, in my 

home ashore. 
My forrud was tightly bandaged, and I lay on my 

little bed — 
I'd slipped, so they told me arter, and a rulluck 

had struck my head. 

Then my mates came in and whispered ; they'd 

heerd I was comin' round. 
At first I could scarcely hear 'em, it seemed like 

a buzzin' sound ; 
But as soon as my head got clearer, and accus- 
tomed to hear 'em speak, 
I knew as I'd lain like that, sir, for many a long, 

long week. 
I guessed what the lads was hidin', for their poor 

old shipmate's sake. 
I could see by their puzzled faces they'd got some 

news to break ; 
So I lifts my head from the pillow, and I says to 

old Ben, " Look here ! 
I'm able to bear it now, lad — tell me, and never 

fear." 

Not one on 'em ever answered, but presently Ben 

goes out, 
And the others slinks away like, and I says, 

" What's this about ? 



134 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Why can't they tell me plainly as the poor old 

wife is dead ?" 
Then I fell again on the pillows, and I hid my 

achin' head. 
I lay like that for a minute, till I heard a voice 

cry " John !" 
And I thought it must be a vision as my weak 

eyes gazed upon ; 
For there by the bedside, standin' up and well, 

was my wife. 
And who do ye think was with her? Why, 

Jack, as large as life. 

It was him as I'd saved from drownin' the night 

as the lifeboat went 
To the wreck of the Royal Helen ; 'twas that as 

the vision meant. 
They'd brought us ashore together, he'd knelt by 

his mother's bed, 
And the sudden joy had raised her like a miracle 

from the dead ; 
And mother and son together had nursed me 

back to life, 
And my old eyes woke from darkness to look on 

my son and wife. 
Jack ? He's our right hand now, sir ; 'twas Provi- 
dence pulled him through — 
He's alius the first aboard her when the lifeboat 

wants a crew. 

George R. Sims. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 135 
COURTSHIP OF HENEY THE FIFTH. 

King Henry. Fair Katherine and most fair ! 
Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms, 
Such as will enter at a lady's ear, 
And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart? 

Katherine. (conversing with the aid of Alice.) Your 
majesty shall mock at me ; I cannot speak your 
England. 

K. Hen. O fair Katherine, if you will love me 
soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to 
hear you confess it brokenly with your English 
tongue. Do you like me, Kate ? 

Kath. Pardonnez moi, I cannot tell vat is — like 
me. 

K. Hen. An angel is like you, Kate ; and you 
are like an angel. 

Kath. Que dit-il ? que je suis semblable d les 
anges ? 

Alice. Oui, vraiment (sauf voire grace), ainsi 
dit-il. 

K. Hen. I said so, dear Katherine, and I must 
not blush to affirm it. 

Kath. bon Dieu ! les langues des hommes sont 
pleines de tromperies. 

K. Hen. What sa} T s she, fair one? that the 
tongues of men are full of deceits ? 

Alice. Oui ; dat de tongues of de mans is full 
of deceits : dat is de princess. 

K. Hen. The princess is the better English- 
woman. I' faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy 
understanding. 



136 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Kath. Sauf votre honneur, me understand well. 

K. Hen. Marry, if you would put me to verses, 
or to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid 
me. If I could win a lady at leap-frog, or by 
vaulting into my saddle with my armor on my 
back, under the correction of bragging be it 
spoken, I should quickly leap unto a wife. Or 
if I might buffet for my love, or bound my 
horse for her favors, I could lay on like a butcher, 
and sit like a jackanapes, never off; but, Kate, 
I cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my elo- 
quence, nor I have no cunning in protesta- 
tion. If thou canst love a fellow of this temper, 
Kate, whose face is not worth sunburning, 
that never looks in his glass for love of any- 
thing he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I 
speak to thee plain soldier : If thou canst love 
me for this, take me ; if not, to say to thee — that 
I shall die, is true : but — for thy love, by the 
Lord, no ; yet I love thee too. And while thou 
livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and un- 
coined constancy ; for he perforce must do thee 
right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other 
places : for these fellows of infinite tongue, that 
can rhyme themselves into ladies' favors, they do 
always reason themselves out again. What ! a 
speaker is but a prater ; a rhyme is but a ballad. 
A good leg will fall ; a straight back will stoop ; 
a black beard will turn white ; a curled pate will 
grow bald ; a fair face will wither ; a full eye will 
wax hollow ; but a good heart, Kate, is the sun 
and the moon ; or rather the sun, and not the 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND RECITATION. 137 

moon ; for it shines bright, and never changes, 
but keeps his course truly. If thou wouldst have 
such a one, take me. 

Kath. Is it possible dat I should love de 
enemy of France ? 

K. Hen. No ; it is not possible } t ou should 
love the enemy of France, Kate; but in loving 
me, you should love the friend of France ; for I 
love France so well that I will not part with a 
village of it ; I will have it all mine ; and, Kate, 
when France is mine, and I am yours, then yours 
is France, and you mine. 

Kath. I cannot tell vat is dat. 

K. Hen. No, Kate ? I will tell thee in French ; 
which, I am sure, will hang upon my tongue like 
a new-married wife about her husband's neck, 
hardly to be shook off. Quand fed la possession 
de France, et quand vous avez la possession de moi 
(let me see, what then ? Saint Dennis be my 
speed !) — done votre est France, et vous etes mien. It 
is as easy for me, Kate, to conquer the kingdom 
as to speak so much more French : I shall never 
move thee in French, unless it be to laugh at me. 

Kath. Sauf votre honneur, le Francais que vous 
parlez est meilleur que V Anglais le quel je parte. 

K. Hen. No, 'faith, is't not, Kate ; but thy 
speaking of my tongue, and I thine, must needs 
be granted to be much at one. But, Kate, dost 
thou understand thus much English ? Canst thou 
love me ? 

Kath. I cannot tell. 

K. Hen. Can any of your neighbors tell, Kate ? 



138 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

I'll ask tliem. Come, I know thou lovest me. 
How answer you, la plus belle Katherine du monde, 
mon tres chere et divine deesse ? 

Kath. Your majeste ave fausse French enough 
to deceive de most sage demoiselle dat is en France. 

K. Hen. Now, fie upon my false French ! By 
mine honor, in true English, I love thee, Kate. 
Put off your maiden blushes ; avouch the thoughts 
of your heart with the looks of an empress ; take 
me by the hand, and say — Harry of England, I 
am thine : which word thou shalt no sooner bless 
mine ear withal but I will tell thee aloud — Eng- 
land is thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, 
and Henry Plantagenet is thine ; who, though I 
speak it before his face, if he be not fellow with 
the best king, thou shalt find the best king of 
good fellows. Come, your answer in broken 
music ; for thy voice is music, and thy English 
broken. Wilt thou have me ? 

Kath. Dat is as it shall please de roi mon pere. 

K. Hen. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; 
it shall please him, Kate. 

Kath. Den it sail also content me. 

K. Hen. Upon that I kiss your hand, and I 
call you my queen. 

Kath. Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez; ma 
foi, je ne veux point que vous abbaissez voire grand- 
eur, en baisant la main d'une votre indigne serviteure; 
excuzez moi t je vous supplie, mon tres puissant 
seigneur. 

K. Hen. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate. 

Kath. Les dames, et demoiselles, pour etre bais- 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 139 

sees devant leur noces, il n'est pas le coutume de 
France. 

K. Hen. Madam my interpreter, what says 
she ? 

Alice. Dat it is not be de fashion pour les ladies 
of France — I cannot tell what is baiser, en English. 

K. Hen. To kiss. 

Alice. Your majesty entendre bettre que moi. 

K. Hen. It is not the fashion for the maids 
in France to kiss before they are married, would 
she say ? 

Alice. Out, vraiment. 

K. Hen. Kate, nice customs curt'sy to great 
kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined 
within the weak list of a country's fashion ; there- 
fore, patiently and yielding. [Kissing her.] You 
have witchcraft in your lips, Kate ; there is more 
eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the 
tongues of the French council : and they should 
sooner persuade Henry of England than a general 
petition of monarchs. 

Shakespeare. 

DAISIES. 

Were I but a nymph or fairy, 

Full of whims and fancy-free, 
Of all form in which to hide me, 

I would fain a daisy be : 
Ever fresh on lawn or meadow, 

Ready with its smile to greet 
Rain or sunshine, bird or dewdrop, 

Or the tread of human feet. 



140 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

All through life to us poor mortals 

Faithful friends the daisies are ; 
Children on the green grass playing 

Hail their bright eyes as a star. 
Decked with chains of daisy-blossoms, 

Up and down they go like kings, 
Call its golden eyes their money, 

Cast abroad its silver wings. 

Older grown, upon the green turf 

Many a measure light they tread, 
Ah ! so light the friendly daisy 

Lifts unhurt its little head : 
Days of music and of beauty, 

With a golden halo bright ; 
How could hearts so gay and happy 

Fail to tread with footstep light ? 

Heavier soon that footstep presses, 

Oh, the weary, weary day ! 
What to them the smile of April ? 

What to them the bloom of May ? 
'Neath the hawthorn in the meadow 

They would fling them down and die ; 
In the turf that cools their forehead 

Greets them still the daisy's eye. 

Like a friend it cheers and soothes them, 
Brings their childhood back again, 

Till upon the daisy-blossoms 

Fall their tears like welcome rain. 

Lowly lessons has it whispered, 
Smoothing still the sullen frown ; 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 141 

Not for sorrow nor for anguish, 
Must we lay our burden down. 

Life rolls on, and ever onward, 

All things round them fleet and change ; 
Home and childhood both have vanished : 

They are old, and all is strange ; 
Only in the early spring-time 

One familiar sight they see, 
On the lawn the starry daisy 

Bright as it was wont to be. 

Life rolls on, and ever onward, 

Friendly death has come at last ; 
Weep not, for indeed 'twas welcome, 

And with sign of faith they passed. 
With the Church's prayers and blessings 

Laid to rest in holy ground, 
All of earth their mem'ry keeping 

Is one little daisied mound. 

O ye daisies ! well ye teach us 

Friendship's holy debt to pay, 
'Neath the mower's footstep springing, 

Growing by the common way : 
Moralists would fain persuade us 

Kindly hearts are few and rare ; 
Never can I learn the lesson, 

For I find them everywhere. 

Up and down our pathway scattered, 

Like the daisies, do they lie ; 
We need only glance around us 



142 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Would we meet their friendly eye. 
Pride indeed may overlook them, 

Cold contempt may turn aside, 
But, believe me, daisies ever 

In the grass their blossoms hide. 

Childlike hands will seek and find them, 

Childlike hearts the treasure prize ; 
Never will they scorn the welcome 

Which they read in daisy's eyes. 
Smile not ; could I choose my calling, 

Nothing sweeter could I see 
Than to all sad hearts and lonely 

Might I like the daisy be ! 

' * Songs in the Night" 

THE DEATH OP D'ASSAS. 

[In the autumn of 1760, Louis XV. sent an army into Ger- 
many. They took up a strong position at Klostercamp / in- 
tending to advance on Rheinberg. The young Chevalier 
D'Assas was sent out by Auvergne to reconnoitre. He met a 
party advancing tp surprise the French camp. Their bayo- 
nets pricked his breast, and the leader whispered, " Make the 
least noise, and you are a dead man." D'Assas paused a mo- 
ment, then cried out as loud as he could, "Here, Auvergne! 
here are the enemy!" He was immediately cut down, but his 
death had saved the French army. — History of France.'] 

There's revelry at Louis' court. With joust and 

tournament, 
With feasting and with laughter, the merry days 

are spent ; 
And midst them all, those gallant knights, of 

Louis' court the boast, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 143 

Who can compare with D'Assas among the brill- 
iant host ? 

The flush of youth is on his cheek ; the fire that 
lights his eye 

Tells of the noble heart within, the spirit pure 
and high. 

No braver knight holds charger's reign, or 
wields the glittering lance, 

Than proud and lordly D'Assas, bold chevalier of 
France. 

The sound of war strikes on the air from far be- 
yond the Khine, 
Its clarions ring across the fields, rich with the 

purple vine. 
France calls her best and bravest : " Up, men, 

and take the sword ! 
Of German vales and hillsides, Louis would fain 

be lord ; 
Go forth, and for your sovereign win honor and 

renown ; 
Plant the white flag of Ivry on valley and on 

town. 
The green soil of the Fatherland shall see your 

arms advance, 
The dull and stolid Teuton shall bend the knee 

to France." 

On Klostercamp the morning sun is glancing 
brightly down. 

Auvergne has ranged his forces within the an- 
cient town. 



144 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

From thence on Rheinberg shall they move : 
that citadel so grim 

Shall yield her towers to Auvergne, shall ope her 
gates to him. 

His warriors stand about him, a bold and gallant 
band, 

No general e'er had truer men to follow his com- 
mand. 

He seeks the best and bravest ; on D'Assas falls 
his glance, — 

On brave and lordly D'Assas, bold chevalier of 
France. 

"Advance, my lord," cried Auvergne ; D'Assas is 

at his side. 
" Of all the knights who form my train, who 

'neath my banner ride, 
None hold the place of trust the king our sov- 
ereign gives to thee, — 
Wilt thou accept a fearful charge that death or 

fame shall be ? 
Wilt thou, O D'Assas ! ride to-night close to 

the foeman's line, 
And see what strength he may oppose to these 

proud hosts of mine ? " 
Then D'Assas bows his stately head. " Thy will 

shall soon be done. 
Back will I come with tidings full e'er dawns the 

morning sun." 

'Tis midnight. D'Assas rideth forth upon his 
well-tried steed. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 1 46 

Auvergne hatli made a worthy choice for this ad- 
venturous deed. 
But stop ! what means this silent host ? How 

stealthily they come ! 
No martial music cleaves the air, no sound of 

beaten drum. 
Like spectre forms they seem to glide before his 

wondering eyes ; 
"Well hath he done, the wary foe, to plan this wild 

surprise. 
Back D'Assas turns ; but ah ! too late, — a lance 

is laid in rest : 
The knight can feel its glittering point against his 

corselet prest. 

"A Frenchman! Hist!" A heavy hand has 

seized his bridle-rein. 
" Hold close thy lips, my gallant spy ; one word, 

and thou art slain. 
What brought thee here ? Dost thou not know 

this is the Fatherland ? 
How dar'st thou stain our righteous earth with 

thy foul Popish band ? 
Wouldst guard thy life, then utter not one sound 

above thy breath ; 
A whisper, and thy dainty limbs shall make a 

meal for Death. 
Within thy heart these blades shall find the black 

blood of thy race, 
And none shall ever know or dream of thy last 

resting-place." 
Calm as a statue D'Assas stands. His heart he 

lifts on high. 



146 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" The God of battles help me now, and teach 

me how to die ! 
A weeping maid will mourn my fate, a sovereign 

holds me dear ; 
Be to them ever more than I who perish sadly 

here." 
No word has passed his pallid lips, no sound his 

voice has made. 
'Twas but the utterance of his heart, this prayer 

the soldier prayed. 
But then ? ah, then ! No voice on earth e'er 

rang more loud and clear : 
"Auvergne!" he cried, "Auvergne, Auvergne ! 

Behold ! the foe is here !" 

The forest echoes with the shout. Appalled his 

captors stand. 
The courage of that dauntless heart has stayed 

each murderous hand. 
A moment's pause, — then who can tell how quick 

their bayonets' thrust 
Reached D'Assas' heart, and laid him there, a 

helpless heap of dust ! 
The bravest chevalier of France, the pride of 

Louis' train, — 
His blood bedews that alien earth, a flood of 

crimson rain. 
But Auvergne — Auvergne hears the cry ; his 

troops come dashing on : 
Ere D'Assas' spirit leaves its clay, the victory 

has been won. 

Mary E. Vandyne, in " Good Clieer." 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 147 
JACQUES DUPOUB. 

Strolling in the cool of evening, drinking in the 
balmy air, 

I met a strange wayfaring man bowed down with 
grief and care. 

Eighty years had left their foot-prints on his 
gaunt and ashen cheek, 

And his hands were gray and shrunken, and his 
voice was thin and weak : 

But his eyes, while he was speaking, kindled with 
a misty glow, 

'Mid their whitened brows and lashes, like a cra- 
ter in the snow. 

And this aged Frenchman told me (his name was 
Jacques Dufour), 

The story of the faded shred of ribbon that he 
wore : 

Just a scrap of scarlet ribbon pinned upon his 
shrunken breast, 

But to him more rich and beautiful than rubies 
of the East. 

'Twas in eighteen-twelve he won it, in that ter- 
rible campaign 

When the French invaded Bussia, but invaded 
her in vain ; 

And the starved and freezing Frenchmen had 
begun that sad retreat 

Through the snow that proved for most of them 
both grave and winding-sheet. 

There had been a bloody skirmish 'twixt the rear- 
guard and the foe, 



148 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

And among the sorely wounded, whom the chance 
of fight laid low, 

"Was a gallant Polish Colonel, Marshal Davoust's 
favorite aide, 

And the Marshal, kneeling o'er him, turned about, 
and sharply said : 

"Halt, Company of Grenadiers, and see this 
wounded Pole ! - 

He loves the French ; he hates the Kuss, with 
all his fiery soul : 

Will you let him fall a prisoner to his bloody- 
minded foe?" 

And the Company of Grenadiers cried out as one 
man, No! 

" Then lift him," said the Marshal. " You sol- 
diers must have learned 

That our wagons we've abandoned, and our bag- 
gage has been burned : 

Make a litter ; you must bear him ; I trust him 
to your love ; 

He will burden, will impede you, but I know that 
you will prove 

That you do your duty ever, and will guard this 
wounded man 

As you guard your sacred colors when they lead 
the battle's van." 

So they made the hasty litter, and the wounded 
man they bore 

(Of the youngest and the cheeriest, was Sergeant 
Jacques Dufour). 

And day by day they fought their way, through 
deserts bleak and wild, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 149 

Guarding the crippled Colonel, as a woman 

guards her child. 
But the work of love delayed them, and they 

slowly fell behind, 
Yet not one of all that Company of Grenadiers 

repined. 
Still they fought the cold and Cossacks ; still 

they held their rugged way, 
Falling back, but never fleeing : retreating, yet 

at bay. 
But the foe was fell and agile, and the cold it 

waxed amain, 
And so one by one they perished — some were 

frozen, some were slain, 
Till the nineteenth day of marching came, and 

there were onl} r five 
Of that Company of Grenadiers who still re- 
mained alive. 
Then spoke the wounded Colonel : " Oh, my 

comrades, it is vain : 
I can surely never live to see my native land again ; 
You are squandering your lives for nought, lives 

it were sweet to save 
For France and future glory ; so leave me, com- 
rades brave." 
" Peste!" said Jacques Dufour, " my Colonel, we 

take leave to answer Nay. 
We have orders to deliver you at Wilna, — we 

obey !" 
So they lift again the litter, and they struggle on 

their way, 



150 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Till the western clouds are lighted with the 
gleams of dying day : 

And as they watch the glory, against those golden 
skies, 

The towers and walls of Wilna in welcome out- 
line rise ! 

But too great the stress of feeling for those over- 
burdened men : 

Too swift the refluent flood of hope that swelled 
their hearts again : 

Far too weak their feeble bodies for this beatific 
sight : 

Two fell dying on the left hand, two fell dying 
on the right ; 

And, as faded in the frozen air their last convul- 
sive moan, 

Lo ! of all that noble Company, Dufour was left 
alone ! 

Did he falter ? No ! He lifted in his arms the 
wounded man, 

And with wild and desperate shouting towards 
the nearest outpost ran ; ■ 

And the pickets came with succor, and the sun 
had just gone down 

When they bore the Sergeant and his charge in 
safety to the town. 

Then Dufour sent up a message to headquarters, 
quaint and short, 

That " the Company of Grenadiers desired to re- 
port." 

"Granted," said the bluff old Marshal, "let 
them do it here and now." 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 151 

And Jacques Dufour came marching in and made 

his stiffest bow. 
"Where is mj wounded Colonel?" "Safe in 

the hospital, 
Where you ordered us to place him, Monsieur 

le Marechal." 
" Where is the Company ? They too have come 

in safety all?" 
"The Company is present, Monsieur le Mare- 
chal." 
" Where is the Company, I repeat, the Company ?" 

once more. 
" The Company is present" said Sergeant Jacques 

Dufour. 
" But your comrades — there were ninety or a 

hundred men, you know." 
" Ah, mon Marechal, my comrades lie buried in 

the snow !" 
Then up rose the stout old Marshal, with his 

eyes brimful of tears, 
Dashed aside the barriers of rank, the cold re- 
serve of years : 
Caught the stripling to his bosom, gave him a 

reverent kiss, 
And the ribbon which Dufour has worn from 

that far day to this. 

William W. Howe. 

THE SIKENS. 

Sweetly they sang in the days of old, 
Till the mariners heard them far at sea, 

And, lured by that music, the brave and bold, 
Buffeting billows wild and free, 



152 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Forgot their duty, and shifting sail, 

Steered to the treacherous music's fall ; 

Ah ! better have battled the sharpest gale, 
Than lent the ear to the Sirens' call. 

For, bleaching bare on the cold, white sand, 
Lo ! countless victims, who bent an oar 

From the safe, strong waves, to the false, fair 
land, 
And perished there on the cruel shore. 

You say no longer the Sirens sing, 

And cheat the souls of the sons of men ; 
That over life's breakers no harp-notes ring 

With perilous sweetness fraught, as when 
In the gray, dim dawn of the waking world 

The sailors leaned from the decks to hear 
Those wooing strains, till their flag they furled, 

And sped to the tempters who cost them dear. 

Be not too sure ! Till the lips are dumb, 
And the brow is chill in the damp of death, 

There are always Sirens to overcome, 

And their tones are sweet as a bugle's breath. 

Who faints and falters, in heart and hand, 

When nights are dreary and storms are cold, 
Who hears, as if by the zephyrs fanned, 

False love-notes blown, as in days of old, 
Who barters his hope of the peace of God 

For a present ease, a delusive rest, 
Is treading the path that is always trod 

By feet astray from the steadfast best. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 153 

And the mocking Sirens, who comb their locks 
And weave their charms for the foolish heart 

Till it breaks itself on the sunken rocks, 
Still smile and sing with a fatal art. 

Who spends his money before 'tis earned ; 

Who covets the splendor he cannot buy ; 
Who silently listens when good is spurned ; 

For the coin of honor, who gives a lie ; 
Who, weak of armor, does not endure, 

When the conflict deepens, and wounds are 
felt; 
The man, whose soul is no longer pure 

As when at his mother's knee he knelt, 

Has heard where the white-caps kiss the reef, 
The baleful strain that the Sirens sing ; 

Though his joy be bright, it shall still be brief, 
And the hateful harps shall his death-knell 
ring. 

You may stop your ears as you sail along, 

And drift away from their misty coast ; 
Or better still, you may lift a song 

That is sweeter than theirs, for all their boast. 
That song shall soar to the heights above, 

And thence, like a silver star, shall fall 
To hearken and cheer, with tones of love, 

All souls that list to its dulcet call. 

In vain do the Sirens sing for one 

Whose spirit is tuned to higher praise, 

And who meekly fills, with duties done, 

The rounded spheres of life's common days. 
Margaret E. Sangster, in " Good Cheer" 



154 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 
THE COITVTCT SHIP. 

He stood upon the emerald strand, 
Which gave his sires a kingly birth, 

An exile from his native land, 

A sentenced wanderer o'er the earth. 

No, not the earth ! or he had found 

A spot where free-born souls could dwell. 

Like common felons, he was bound 
A slave beyond the ocean's swell — 

The slave of England's haughty power — 
A branded convict by the laws — 

The hero of one glorious hour — 
The martyr of a deathless cause. 

Away upon the shadowy stream 

A prison ship, with spectral shrouds, 

Like phantom vessel, in a dream, 

Floated between the waves and clouds ; 

And friends looked sternly on the deep, 
For kindred blood rose wild and high. 

And grief so proud it might not weep, 
Burned fiercely in each lurid eye ; 

Thus, stung with grief and mute with rage, 
That band drew close to where he stood, 

The victim of a faithless age, 

Sublime in their firm brotherhood. 

" Advance !" The fatal word is given ; 

A sob goes swelling through the crowd ; 
He lifts his trembling hands to heaven ; 

His voice is mournful, deep, and loud. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 155 

" O God ! I sought but to be free ! 

If the deep bondage of this land 
May centre all its ills on me, 

Then let me perish where I stand ! 
The blood of many a kingly sire 

Has reddened on my native sod ; 
The light of many a mart}^r's fire 

Has sent its life-smoke up to God ! 

" And I, her son, was it a crime 

To seize the chains that mar her breast, 

And scatter back the wrongs that Time 
Has rusted round her emerald crest \ 

" A crime ! While Ireland in her chains 

Against oppression toils and strives, 
Each ruddy drop within my veins, — 

Though vital with a thousand lives, — 
Let forth by this too willing hand 

If that could rend one link apart, 
Should redden down this thirsty sand, 

The old wine of a broken heart. 
Ireland, my country, what is she ? 

And what am I ? A convict slave ! 
An hour, and that remorseless sea 

Will bear me to a felon's grave." 
" Onward I" The guards file slowly past ; 

His pulse beats like a muffled knell ; 
As dead leaves in the wintry blast, 

His lifted hands unlocked, and fell. 

But hark ! A tumult in the crowd — 
Murmurs of anguish and surprise ; 



156 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

For onward, like a drifting cloud, 

That from a tempest wildly flies, — 
The wife appears ! A little child 

Lies struggling in her firm embrace, 
And lifts his eyes so wide and wild, 

In terror, to her pallid face. 
She knows not that her brow is bare, 

Nor feels the moist wind wander through 
The golden splendor of her hair, 

That shades those eyes of burning blue — 
Nor heeds the boy, but firmer girds 

His cries and struggles to her heart. 
She utters neither groan nor words, 

But, with white cheek and lips apart, 
Moves slowly through the breathless throng, 

That yields, with sympathy profound, 
A passage, as she glides along 

In search of that brave outward bound. 

The convict sees her on the strand; 

With one great pang of more than joy, 
He turns upon the soldiers' band : 

" Stop ! Yonder are my wife and boy I" 
Then, like a panther from its glade, 

He braves the bayonets' deadly clash, 
And flings aside each gleaming blade 

With a fierce bound and lightning dash. 
She sees him. Like a wounded doe, 

All wild with bliss and mad with pain, 

Springs to his arms : "I go — I go ! 
What power shall part us two again ? 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 157 

Yes, fold us closer — closer, love — 

In me thou hast old Ireland yet ; 
I tell thee any land shall prove 

Native to us. Thy eyes are wet — 
This great heart swells against my own, 

Its holy anguish pleads for me — 
Ah ! could ye leave us here alone, 

To perish looking on that sea ?" 

Breathless she gazed into his face, 

And lifted from her heart the child— 
Believed from her too fond embrace, 

The boy looked up and softly smiled. 
The convict turned. They should not know 

How close the tears rose to his eyes — 
How sweet the love — how deep the woe, 

Brought to his soul by this surprise. 

"Advance I" Again that dread command 
Bolls, trumpet-like, along the shore ; 

Guarded by England's soldier band, 
They leave old Ireland evermore. 

They stood together on that gloomy deck, 

Straining each gaze to catch another sight 
Of that dim shore that, like a cloudy speck, 

Lay dark and sombre in the morning light. 
Ah ! it was very mournful. All around 

The weltering sea heaved with a hollow moan, 
And from the hold arose the dreary sound 

Of smothered tears and many a broken groan ; 



158 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

For that old battered prison-ship was full, 

And freighted deep with misery and tears, 
From the tall spars down to the creaking hull 

She reeled and trembled as with human fears. 
They stood together, silently and still, 

Their eyes turned shoreward, with a dreary 
gaze; 
The winds swept wailing by them, fierce and 
chill, 

And there lay Ireland, mourning in the haze. 
Then all at once his mustering grief awoke : 

" Oh, for a grave beneath my native sod!" 
Thus on the wailing air his anguish broke, 

" I ask but this — but this, Almighty God !" 

As if the heavens themselves had heard 

The passion of that cry, 
The moaning deep was fiercely stirred ; 

The waves rose white and high. 

The clouds, in one broad thunder-fold, 

Swept blackly through the air, 
Like a great pall of death unrolled 

By angels answering there. 

Blacker and blacker glooms the front of heaven, 
And in its wrath sweeps the recoiling sea ; 

Hither and yon the angry waves are driven, 
Like routed war steeds, rushing to be free. 

In mad battalions, with their white manes stream- 
ing* 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND RECITATION. 159 

They trample down the bosom of the deep ; 
Sharp, fiery lances through the clouds are gleam- 
ing, 

And strike the waters, where they foam and 
leap. 



And then was torn that inky cloud, 

With storms of lurid rain ; 
And heaven's artillery thundered loud 

Above the heaving main. 
It seemed as if the stars at last, 

Retreating in their ire, 
Had poured upon the raging blast 

Great cataracts of fire. 



Like a wild desert steed, beneath the lash, 

The tortured vessel plunges madly on ; 
The masts have fallen with a smothered crash, 

Her guards are broken and her strength is 
gone. 
The waves leap, rioting, across her deck, 

The helpless crew are swept from where they 
clung, 
"With a faint death-hold, to the plunging wreck, 

Her tattered canvas to the storm is flung. 

Onward, still onward, anchorless and bare, 
She reels and toils toward the rocky shore ; 

Her hold sends forth its shrieks of fell despair, 
Like fiery arrows piercing through the roar. 



160 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

The exiles kneel together. — His embrace 

Girds in the unconscious boy and pallid wife, 

A mighty gladness brightens on his face, 

Hope comes with death and slavery with life. 

It comes ! it comes ! that rushing mountain, now, 

And lifts the shuddering vessel on its breast. 
Quick, vivid flashes curl around her prow, 

And wreathe the masts with many a fiery crest. 
A plunge, a quick recoil, one fearful cry ! 

She strikes — she strikes — the rock — O God — 
the rock ! 
Amid the waters raging to the sky, 

That clinging group go downward with the 
shock. 

'Tis over — from behind that parted cloud 

The frightened moon sheds down a timid 
gleam. 
With the white foam around her, like a shroud, 

Through which her golden locks all dimly 
stream, 
That gentle mother clasps her lifeless child, 

Folded upon the marble of her breast. 
There in his pallid death the infant smiled, 

As if he lay caressing and caressed. 

With his cold face half veiled beneath her hair, 
Cast to her side by a relenting wave, 

The sire and husband had his answered prayer — 
The Irish Patriot filled an Irish Grave. 

Mrs. Ann 8. Stephens. 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND RECITATION 161 

THE LADY OP CASTLENOBE. 
(A.D. 1700.) 

Bbetagne had not her peer. In the Province far 
or near, 
There were never such brown tresses, such a 
faultless hand : 
She had youth, and she had gold, she had jewels 
all untold, 
And many a lover bold wooed the Lady of the 
Land. 

But she with queenliest grace, bent low her pal- 
lid face, 
And, " Woo me not for mercy's sake, fair gentle- 
men," she said. 
If they wooed then, with a frown she would 
strike their passion down : 
She might have wed a crown to the ringlets on 
her head. 

From the dizzy castle-tips, hour by hour she 
watched the ships, 
Like sheeted phantoms coming and going ever- 
more, 
While the twilight settled down on the sleepy 
seaport- town, 
On the gables peaked and brown, that had 
sheltered kings of yore. 

Dusky belts of cedar-wood partly clasped the 
widening flood ; 



162 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Like a knot of daisies lay the hamlets on the 
hill; 
In the hostelry below, sparks of light would 
come and go, 

And faint voices strangely low, from the garru- 
lous old mill. 

Here the land in grassy swells gently broke ; 
there sunk in dells 
"With mosses green and purple, and prongs of 
rock and peak ; 
Here in statue-like repose, an old wrinkled moun- 
tain rose, 
With its hoary head in snows, and wild roses 
at its feet. 

And so oft she sat alone in the turret of gray 
stone, 
And looked across the moorland, so woful, to 
the sea, 
That there grew a village- cry, how her cheek did 
lose its dye, 
As a ship, once, sailing by, faded on the sap- 
phire lea. 

Her few walks led all one way, and all ended at 
the gray, 
And ragged, jagged rocks that fringe the lone- 
some beach ; 
There she would stand, the Sweet ! with the 
white surf at her feet, 
While above her wheeled the fleet sparrow- 
hawk with startled screech. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 163 

And she ever loved the sea, God's half-uttered 
mystery, 
With its million lips of shells, its never-ceas- 
ing roar ; 
And 'twas well that, when she died, they made 
her a grave beside 
The blue pulses of the tide, by the towers of 
Castlenore. 

Now, one chill November morn, many russet 
autumns gone, 
A strange ship with folded wings lay dozing 
off the lea ; 
It had lain throughout the night with its wings 
of murky white 
Folded, after weary flight, the worn nursling of 
the sea. 

Crowds of peasants flocked the sands, there were 
tears and clasping hands ; 
And a sailor from the ship stalked through the 
kirk-yard gate ; 
Then amid the grass that crept, fading over her 
who slept, 
How he hid his face and wept, crying, Late, 
alas ! too late I 

And they called her cold. God knows. Under- 
neath the winter snows, 
The invisible hearts of flowers grow ripe for 
blossoming ! 



164 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

And the lives that look so cold, if their stories 
could be told, 
Would seem cast in gentler mould, would 
seem full of love and spring. 

T. B. Aldrich. 

THE KING AND THE CHILD. 

The sunlight shone on the walls of stone 

And towers sublime and tall ; 
King Alfred sat upon his throne 

Within his council hall. 

And glancing o'er the splendid throng, 

With grave and solemn face, 
To where his noble vassals stood, 

He saw a vacant place. 

" Where is the Earl of Holderness ?" 

With anxious look, he said. 
" Alas, O King !" a courtier cried, 

" The noble Earl is dead !" 

Before the monarch could express 

The sorrow that he felt, 
A soldier with a war-worn face 

Approached the throne and knelt. 

"My sword," he said, " has ever been, 

King ! at thy command, 
And many a proud and haughty Dane 

Has fallen by my hand. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 165 

" I've fought beside thee in the field, 
And 'neath the greenwood tree ; 

It is but fair for thee to give 
Yon vacant place to me." 

" It is not just," a statesman cried, 
" This soldier's prayer to hear, 

My wisdom has done more for thee 
Than either sword or spear. 

" The victories of the council hall 
Have made thee more renown 

Than all the triumphs of the field 
Have given to thy crown. 

" My name is known in every land, 

My talents have been thine, 
Bestow this Earldom, then, on me, 

For it is justly mine." 

Yet, while before the monarch's throne 

These men contending stood, 
A woman crossed the floor who wore 

The weeds of widowhood. 

And slowly to King Alfred's feet 

A fair-haired boy she led — 
" O King ! this is the rightful heir 

Of Holderness," she said. 

" Helpless he comes to claim his own, 

Let no man do him wrong, 
For he is weak and fatherless, 

And thou art just and strong." 



166 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

"What strength of power," the statesman cried, 

" Could such a judgment bring ? 
Can such a feeble child as this 

Do aught for thee, King, 

" When thou hast need of brawny arms 

To draw thy deadly bows, 
When thou art wanting crafty men 

To crush thy mortal foes ?" 

With earnest voice the fair young boy 

Replied : " I cannot fight, 
But I can pray to God, O King ! 

And Heaven can give thee might!" 

The King bent down and kissed the child, 

The courtiers turned away. 
" The heritage is thine," he said, 

"Let none their right gainsay. 

" Our swords may cleave the casques of men, 

Our blood may stain the sod, 
But what are human strength and power 

Without the help of God !" 

Eugene J. Hall. 

THE CHILDREN'S CRUSADE. 

I. 

FIRST VOICE. 

What is this I read in history, 
Full of marvel, full of mystery, 
Difficult to understand ? 
Is it fiction, is it truth ? 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 167 

Children in the flower of youth, 
Heart in heart, and hand in hand, 
Ignorant of what helps or harms, 
Without armor, without arms, 
Journeying to the Holy Land ! 

Who shall answer or divine ? 
Never since the world was made 
Such a wonderful crusade 
Started forth for Palestine. 
Never while the world shall last 
Will it reproduce the past ; 
Never will it see again 
Such an army, such a band, 
Over mountain, over main, 
Journeying to the Holy Land. 

Like a shower of blossoms blown 
From the parent trees were they ; 
Like a flock of birds that fly 
Through the unfrequented sky, 
Holding nothing as their own, 
Passed they into lands unknown, 
Passed to suffer and to die. 

O the simple child-like trust ! 
O the faith that could believe 
What the harnessed, iron-mailed 
Knights of Christendom had failed, 
By their prowess, to achieve, 
They, the children, could and must! 



168 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Little thought the Hermit, preaching 

Holy "Wars to knight and baron, 

That the words dropped in his teaching, 

His entreaty, his beseeching, 

Would by children's hands be gleaned, 

And the staff on which he leaned 

Blossom like the rod of Aaron. 

As a summer wind upheaves 

The innumerable leaves 

In the bosom of a wood, — 

Not as separate leaves, but massed 

All together by the blast, — 

So for evil or for good 

His resistless breath upheaved 

All at once the many-leaved, 

Many-thoughted multitude. 

In the tumult of the air 
Rock the boughs with all the nests 
Cradled on their tossing crests ; 
By the fervor of his prayer 
Troubled hearts were everywhere 
Rocked and tossed in human breasts. 

For a century, at least, 
His prophetic voice had ceased; 
But the air was heated still 
By his lurid words and will, 
As from fires in far-off woods, 
In the autumn of the year, 
An unwonted fever broods 
In the sultry atmosphere. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 169 

n. 

CONCERT. 

In Cologne the bells were ringing, 
In Cologne the nuns were singing 
Hymns and canticles divine ; 
Loud the monks sang in their stalls, 
And the thronging streets were loud 
With the voices of the crowd ; — 
Underneath the city walls 
Silent flowed the river Khine. 

From the gates, that summer day, 
Clad in robes of hodden gray, 
With the red cross on the breast, 
Azure-eyed and golden-haired, 
Forth the young crusaders fared ; 
While above the band devoted 
Consecrated banners floated, 
Fluttered many a flag and streamer, 
And the cross o'er all the rest ! 
Singing lowly, meekly, slowly, 

p Chorus. 

m 

Give us, give us 




% 



h * ' g 



&= 



Se - pul - chre of the Re - deem 



170 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 



Give % us, give us.... back the ho - ly 



Se - pul - chre of the Re - deem 

CONCERT. 
On the vast procession pressed, 
Youths and maidens. . . . 

ni. 

CONCERT. 

Ah ! what master hand shall paint 
How they journeyed on their way, 
How the days grew long and dreary, 
How their little feet grew weary, 
How their little hearts grew faint ! 

Ever swifter day by day 
Flowed the homeward river ; ever 
More and more its whitening current 
Broke and scattered into spray, 
Till the calmly-flowing river 
Changed into a mountain torrent, 
Bushing from its glacier green 
Down through chasm and black ravine. 
Like a phoenix in its nest, 
Burned the red sun in the West, 
Sinking in an ashen cloud ; 
In the East, above the crest 




SELECTIONS FOB READING AND RECITATION 111 

Of the sea-like mountain chain, 
Like a phoenix from its shroud, 
Came the red sun back again. 

Now around them, white with snow, 

Closed the mountain peaks. Below, 

Headlong from the precipice 

Down into the dark abyss, 

Plunged the cataract white with foam ; 

And it said, or seemed to say : 



Solo./ 



I?==f^ 






Oh 



fe£ 



re - turn while yet you 




may, 



Fool - ish chil - dren 
f, 



-?=%*=W 



to your 



* 



— ii -v— £— 3- 



home, 



3=6= 



There the Ho - ly Ci - ty 



i 



P Repeat Chows. 

i f »-F * — ^— r i^ — g- F^— - H 



is, There the Ho - ly Ci - ty is. 



CONCERT. 

But the dauntless leader said 



172 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

FIKST VOICE. 

" Faint not, though your bleeding feet 
O'er these slippery paths of sleet 
Move but painfully and slowly ; 
Other feet than yours have bled ; 
Other tears than yours been shed. 
Courage ! lose not heart or hope ; 
On the mountain's southern slope 
Lies Jerusalem the Holy!" 

CONCERT. 

As a white rose in its pride, 
By the wind in summer-tide 
Tossed and loosened from the branch, 
Showers its petals o'er the ground, 
From the distant mountain's side, 
Scattering all its snows around, 
With mysterious, muffled sound, 
Loosened, fell the avalanche. 
Voices, echoes far and near, 
Eoar of winds and waters blending, 
Mists uprising, clouds impending, 
Filled them with a sense of fear, 
Formless, nameless, never ending. 

Repeat Chorus, "Qive us oack" etc., ending thus : 



-%- is fs —\ — U rs =T 



0—0.. 

P ^ 

Se-pul-chre... of the Re- deem - er. 

Longfellow, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 173 
HELIOTROPE. 

Amid the chapel's chequered gloom 

She laughed with Dora and with Flora, 
And chattered in the lecture-room — 

The saucy little Sophomora ! 
Yet while (as in her other schools) 

She was a privileged transgressor, 
She never broke the simple rules 

Of one particular professor. 

But when he spoke of varied lore, 

Paroxytones and moods potential, 
She listened with a face that wore 

A look half fond, half reverential. 
To her that earnest voice was sweet, 

And, though her love had no confessor, 
Her girlish heart lay at the feet 

Of that particular professor. 

And he had learned, among his books, 

That held the lore of ages olden, 
To watch those ever-changing looks, 

The wistful eyes, and tresses golden, 
That stirred his pulse with passion's pain 

And thrilled his soul with soft desire, 
Longing for youth to come again, 

Crowned with its coronet of fire. 

Her sunny smiles, her winsome ways, 

Were more to him than all his knowledge, 

And she preferred his words of praise 
To all honors of the college. 



174 COBREGT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Yet " What am foolish I to him ?" 

She whispered to her one confessor. 

" She thinks me old, and gray, and grim," 

In silence pondered the professor. 

Yet once, when Christmas bells were rung 

Above ten thousand solemn churches. 
And swelling anthems, grandly sung, 

Pealed through the dim cathedral arches — 
Ere home returning, filled with hope, 

Softly she stole by gate and gable, 
And a sweet spray of heliotrope 

Left on his littered study-table. 

Nor came she more, from day to day, 

Like sunshine through the shadows rifting ; 
Above her grave, far, far away, 

The ever-silent snows were drifting : 
And those who mourned her winsome face, 

Found in its stead a swift successor, 
And loved another in her place — 

All, save the silent, old professor. 

But in the tender twilight gray, 

Shut from the sight of carping critic, 
His lonely thoughts would often stray 

From Yedic verse and tongues Semitic — 
Bidding the ghost of perished hope 

Mock with its past the sad possessor 
Of the dead spray of heliotrope 

That once she gave the old professor. 

From "Acta Columbiana" 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 175 
THE LAST RIDE. 

High o'er the snow-capped peaks of blue the 

stars are out to-night, 
And the silver crescent moon hangs low. I 

watched it on my right, 
Moving above the pine-tops tall, a bright and 

gentle shape, 
While I listened to the tales you told of peril and 

escape. 

Then, mingled with your voices low, I heard the 

rumbling sound 
Of wheels adown the farther slope, that sought 

the level ground ; 
And suddenly, from memories that never can 

grow dim, 
Flashed out once more the day when last I rode 

with English Jem. 

'Twas here, in wild Montana, I took my hero's 



From Butte to Deer Lodge, four-in-hand, he 

drove the mountain stage ; 
And many a time, in sun or storm, safe mounted 

at his side, 
I whiled away with pleasant talk the long day's 

weary ride. 

Jem's faithful steeds had served him long, of 

mettle true and tried : 
One sought in vain for trace of blows upon their 

glossy hide ; 



176 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

And to each low command he spoke the leader's 

nervous ear 
Bent eager, as a lover waits his mistress' voice to 

hear. 

With ringing crack the leathern whip, that else 

had idly hung, 
Kept time for many a rapid mile to English songs 

he sung ; 
And yet, despite his smile, he seemed a lonely 

man to be, 
With not one soul to claim him kin on this side 

of the sea. 

But after I had known him long, one mellow even- 
ing-time 

He told me of his English Rose, who withered in 
her prime ; 

And how, within the churchyard green, he laid 
her down to rest 

With her sweet babe, a blighted bud, upon her 
frozen breast. 

" I could not stay," he said, " where she had left 
me all alone ! 

The very hedge-rose that she loved I could not 
look upon ! 

I could not hear the mavis sing, or see the long 
grass wave, 

And every little daisy-bank seemed but my dar- 
ling's grave ! 

" Yet somehow — why, I cannot tell — but when I 
wandered here, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. Ill 

I seemed to bring her with me too, that once had 

been so dear. 
I love these mountain summits, where the world 

is in the sky, 
For she is in it too, — my love ! — and so I bring 

her nigh." 

Next week I rode with Jem again. The coach 
was full, that day, 

And there were little children there, that pleased 
us with their play. 

A sweet-faced mother brought her pair of rosy, 
bright-eyed girls, 

And boy like one I left at home, with silken yel- 
low curls. 

We took fresh horses at Girard's, and as he led 

them out — 
A vicious pair they seemed to me — I heard the 

hostler shout : 
" You always want good horses, Jem ! Now you 

shall have your way. 
Try these new beauties, for we sold your old team 

yesterday." 

O'er clean-cut limb and sloping flank, arched 

neck and tossing head, 
I marked Jem run his practised eye, though not 

a word he said ; 
Yet, as he clambered to his seat, and took the 

reins once more, 
I saw a look upon his face it had not worn 

before. 



178 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

The hostler open flung the gates. "Now, Tem- 
pest, show your pace," 

He cried, and with a careless hand he struck the 
leader's face. 

The horse, beneath the sportive blow, reared as 
if poison-stung ; 

And, with his panic-stricken mates, to a mad 
gallop sprung. 

We thundered through the gate, and out upon 
the stony road ; 

From side to side the great coach lurched, with 
all its priceless load : 

Some cried aloud for help, and some, with terror- 
frozen tongue, 

Clung, bruised and faint in every limb, the weaker 
to the strong. 

And men who oft had looked on death, un- 

blanched, by flood or field, 
When every nerve to do and dare by agony was 

steeled, 
Now moaned aloud, or gnashed their teeth in 

helpless rage, 
To die, at whim of maddened brutes, like vermin 

in a cage ! 

Too well, alas ! too well I knew the awful way 

we went, — 
The little stretch of level road, and then the steep 

descent ; 
The boiling stream that seethed and roared far 

down the rocky ridge, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 179 

With death, like old Horatius, grim waiting at 
the bridge ! 

But, suddenly, above the din, a voice rang loud 
and clear ; 

We knew it well, the driver's voice, — without one 
note of fear ; 

Some strong, swift angel's lips might thrill with 
such a clarion cry, — 

The voice of one who put for aye all earthly pas- 
sion by : — 

" Still ! for your lives, and listen ! See yon farm- 
house by the way, 

And piled along the field in front the shocks of 
new-mown hay. 

God help me turn my horses there ! And when 
I give the word, 

Leap on the hay ! Pray, every soul, to Him who 
Israel heard ! " 

Within, the coach was still. 'Tis strange, but 

never till I die 
Shall I forget the fields that day, the color of the 

sky, 
The summer breeze that brought the first sweet 

perfume of the hay, 
The bobolink that in the grass would sing his 

life away. 

One breathless moment bridged the space that 

lay between, and then 
Jem drew upon the straining reins, with all the 

strength of ten. 



180 CORRECT A2H) EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

"Hold fast the babes!" More close I clasped 

the fair boy at my side. 
" Let every nerve be steady now ! " and " Jump 

for life ! " he cried. 

Saved, every soul ! Oh ! dizzy — sweet life rushed 

in every vein, 
To us who from that fragrant bed rose up to hope 

again! 
But, 'mid the smiles and grateful tears that 

mingled on each cheek, 
A sudden questioning horror grew, that none 

would dare to speak. 

Too soon the answer struck our ears ! One mo- 
ment's hollow roar 

Of flying hoofs upon the bridge — an awful crash 
that tore 

The very air in twain — and then, through all the 
world grown still, 

I only heard the bobolink go singing at his will. 

I was the first man down the cliff. There's little 

left to tell. 
We found him lying, breathing yet and conscious, 

where he fell. 
The question in his eager eyes, I answered with 

a word, — 
" Safe ! " Then he smiled, and whispered low 

some words I scarcely heard. 

We would have raised him, but his lips grew 

white with agony. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 181 

" Not yet ; it will be over soon," he whispered. 

"Wait with me;" 
Then, lower, smiling still, "It is my last ride, 

friends ; but I 
Have done my duty, and God knows I do not 

fear to die." 

He closed his eyes. We watched his life slip, 

like an ebbing tide, 
Far out upon the infinite, where all our hopes 

abide. 
He spoke but once again, a name not meant for 

mortal ears, — 
"My Rose!" She must have heard that call, 

amid the singing spheres ! 

Mary A, P. Stansbury. 

THE GALLEY SLAVE. 

Theee lived in France, in days not long now dead, 
A farmer's sons, twin brothers, like in face ; 

And one was taken in the other's stead 

For a small theft, and sentenced in disgrace 

To serve for years a hated galley slave — 

Yet said no word, his prized good name to save. 

Trusting remoter days would be more blessed, 
He set his will to wear the verdict out, 

And knew most men are prisoners at best, 
Who some strong habit ever drag about, 

Like chain and ball ; then meekly prayed that he 

Rather the prisoner he was should be. 



182 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

But best resolves are of such feeble thread, 
They may be broken in temptation's hands. 

After long toil the guiltless prisoner said : 
Why should I thus, and feel life's precious sands 

The narrow of my glass, the present, run, 

For a poor crime that I have never done ? 

Such questions are like cups, and hold reply ; 
For when the chance swung wide the prisoner 
fled, 
And gained the country road, and hastened by 
Brown furrowed fields and skipping brooklets, 
fed 
By shepherd clouds, and felt 'neath sapful trees 
The soft hand of the mesmerizing breeze. 

Then, all that long day having eaten naught, 
He at a cottage stopped, and of the wife 

A brimming bowl of fragrant milk besought. 
She gave it him ; but as he quaffed the life, 

Down her kind face he saw a single tear 

Pursue its wet and sorrowful career. 

Within the cot he now beheld a man 
And maiden, also weeping. " Speak," said he, 

" And tell me of your grief ; for if I can, 
I will disroot the sad, tear-fruited tree." 

The cotter answered : "In default of rent, 

We shall to-morrow from this roof be sent." 

Then said the galley slave : " Whoso returns 
A prisoner escaped may feel the spur 

To a right action, and deserves and earns 
Proffered reward. 1 am a prisoner ! 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 183 

Bind these my arms, and drive me back my way, 
That your reward the price of home may pay." 

Against his wish the cotter gave consent, 
And at the prison-gate received his fee, 

Though some made it a thing for wonderment 
That one so sickly and infirm as he, 

When stronger would have dared not to attack, 

Could capture this bold youth and bring him 
back. 

Straightway the cotter to the mayor hied, 
And told him all the story ; and that lord 

Was much affected, dropping gold beside 
The pursed sufficient silver of reward ; 

Then wrote his letter in authority, 

Asking to set the noble prisoner free. 

There is no nobler, better life on earth 

Than that of conscious, meek self-sacrifice. 

Such life our Saviour, in His lowly birth 

And holy work, made His sublime disguise — 

Teaching this truth, still rarely understood : 

'Tis sweet to suffer for another's good. 

Henry Alley. 

THE SEA BBEEZE AND THE SCAHP. 

Hung on the casement that looked o'er the main 

Fluttered a scarf of blue ; 
And a gay, bold breeze paused to flutter and 
tease 

This trifle of delicate hue. 



184 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" You are lovelier far than the proud skies are," 

He said, with a voice that sighed. 
" You are fairer to me than the beautiful sea ; 

Oh ! why do you stay here and hide ? 

"You are wasting your life in this dull, dark 
room ;" 

And he fondled her. silken folds. 
" O'er the casement lean but a little, my queen, 

And see what the great world holds. 
How the wonderful blue of your matchless hue 

Cheapens both sea and sky ! 
You are far too bright to be hidden from sight : 

Come, fly with me, darling, fly!" 

Tender his whisper, and sweet his caress ; 

Flattered and pleased was she : 
The arms of her lover lifted her over 

The casement out to sea. 
Close to his breast she was fondly pressed, 

Kissed once by his laughing mouth : 
Then dropped to her grave in the cruel wave, 

While the wind went whistling south. 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 

THE MANTLE OP ST. JOHN DE MATHA. 

A strong and mighty Angel, 

Calm, terrible, and bright, 
The cross in blended red and blue 

Upon his mantle white ! 

Two captives by him kneeling, 
Each on his broken chain, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 185 

Sang praise to God who raisetli 
The dead to life again ! 

Dropping his cross-wrought mantle, 
" Wear this," the Angel said ; 
"Take thou, O Freedom's priest, its sign, — 
The white, the blue, and red." 

Then rose up John de Matha 

In the strength the Lord Christ gave, 

And begged through all the land of France 
The ransom of the slave. 

The gates of tower and castle 

Before him open flew, 
The drawbridge at his coming fell, 

The door-bolt backward drew. 

For all men owned his errand, 

And paid his righteous tax ; 
And the hearts of lord and peasant 

Were in his hands as wax. 

At last, outbound from Tunis, 

His bark her anchor weighed : 
Freighted with seven-score Christian souls 

Whose ransom he had paid. 

But, torn by Paynim hatred, 

Her sails in tatters hung ; 
And on the wild waves, rudderless, 

A shattered hulk she swung. 



186 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" God save us !" cried the captain, 
For naught can man avail ; 
Oh, woe betide the ship that lacks 
Her rudder and her sail ! 

" Behind us are the Moormen ; 
At sea we sink or strand : 
There's death upon the water, 
There's death upon the land !" 

Then up spake John de Matha : 

" God's errands never fail ! 
Take thou the mantle which I wear, 

And make of it a sail." 

They raised the cross- wrought mantle, 
The blue, the white, the red ; 

And straight before the wind off-shore 
The ship of Freedom sped. 

" God help us !" cried the seamen, 
" For vain is mortal skill : 
The good ship on a stormy sea 
Is drifting at its will." 

Then up spake John de Matha : 

" My mariners, never fear ! 
The Lord whose breath has filled her sail 

May well our vessel steer !" 

So on through storm and darkness 
They drove for weary hours ; 



SELECTIONS FOli READING AND RECITATION 187 

And lo ! the third gray morning shone 
On Ostia's friendly towers. 

And on the walls the watchers 

The ship of mercy knew, — 
They knew far off its holy cross, 

The red, the white, and blue. 

And the bells in all the steeples 

Rang out in glad accord, 
To welcome home to Christian soil 

The ransomed of the Lord. 

WhitHer, 

SLEEP. 

"He giveth His beloved sleep." — Ps. cxxvii. 2. 

Of all the thoughts of God that are 
Borne inward into souls afar 
Along the Psalmist's music deep, 
Now tell me if that any is, 
For gift or grace, surpassing this, — 
" He giveth His beloved sleep." 

What would we give to our beloved ? 
The hero's heart to be unmoved, 
The poet's star-tuned harp to sweep, 
The patriot's voice to teach and rouse, 
The monarch's crown to light the brows ? — 
He giveth His beloved sleep. 

What do we give to our beloved ? 
A little faith all undisproved, 
A little dust to overweep, 



188 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

And bitter memories to make 

The whole earth blasted for our sake : 

He giveth His beloved sleep. 

" Sleep soft, beloved !" we sometimes say, 
Who have no tune to charm away- 
Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep ; 
But never doleful dream again 
Shall break the happy slumber when 
He giveth His beloved sleep. 

O earth, so full of dreary noises ! 
O men with wailing in your voices ! 
O delved gold the wailers heap ! 

strife, O curse, that o'er it fall ! 
God strikes a silence through you all, 
And giveth His beloved sleep. 

His dews drop mutely on the hill, 
His cloud above it saileth still, 
Though on its slope men sow and reap : 
More softly than the dew is shed, 
Or cloud is floated overhead, 
He giveth His beloved sleep. 

Ay, men may wonder while they scan 
A living, thinking, feeling man 
Confirmed in such a rest to keep ; 
But angels say, and through the word 

1 think their happy smile is heard, 
"He giveth His beloved sleep." 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 189 

For me, my heart tliat erst did go 

Most like a tired child at a show, 

That sees through tears the mummers leap, 

Would now its wearied vision close, 

Would childlike on His love repose 

Who giveth His beloved sleep. 

And friends, dear friends, when it shall be 
That this low breath has gone from me, 
And round my bier ye come to weep, 
Let one most loving of you all 
Say, " Not a tear must o'er her fall ! 
He giveth His beloved sleep." 

Mrs. Broiuning. 



THE LEGEND OP ST. MAKE. 

The day is closing dark and cold, 

With roaring blast and sleety showers ; 

And through the dusk the lilacs wear 
The bloom of snow, instead of flowers. 

I turn me from the gloom without, 

To ponder o'er a tale of old ; 
A legend of the age of Faith, 

By dreaming monk or abbess told. 

On Tintoretto's canvas lives 

That fancy of a loving heart, 
In graceful lines and shapes of power, 

And hues immortal as his art. 



190 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

In Provence (so the story runs) 

There lived a lord, to whom, as slave, 

A peasant boy of tender years 

The chance of trade or conquest gave. 

Forth-looking from the castle tower, 
Beyond the hills with almonds dark, 

The straining eye could scarce discern 
The chapel of the good St. Mark. 

And there, when bitter word or fare 
The service of the youth repaid, 

By stealth, before that holy shrine, 

For grace to bear his wrong, he prayed. 

The steed stamped at the castle gate, 
The boar-hunt sounded on the hill ; 

Why stayed the Baron from the chase, 
With looks so stern, and words so ill ? 

" Go, bind yon slave ! and let him learn, 
By scath of fire, and strain of cord, 

How ill they speed who give dead saints 
The homage due their living lord!" 

They bound him on the fearful rack, 

When, through the dungeon's vaulted dark, 

He saw the light of shining robes, 
And knew the face of good St. Mark. 

Then sank the iron rack apart, 

The cords released their cruel clasp, 

The pincers, with their teeth of fire, 
Fell broken from the torturer's grasp. 



SELECTIONS FOR BEADING AND RECITATION 191 

And lo ! before the youth and saint, 

Barred door and wall of stone gave way ; 

And up from bondage and the night 
They passed to freedom and the day ! 

WMttier. 

SCENES. PKOM KING RICHARD IH. 

Act III., Scene I. 

The Hall in Crosby Palace. 

Duke of Buckingham, Duke of Gloster, and Prince 
Edward. 

Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to 

your chamber. 
Glos. "Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sov- 
ereign : 
The weary way hath made you melancholy. 
Prince E. No, uncle ; but our crosses on the 
way 
Have made it tedious, wearisome and heavy : 
I want more uncles here to welcome me. 

Glos. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of 
your years 
Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit ; 
Nor more can you distinguish of a man 
Than of his outward show ; which, God he knows, 
Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart. 
Those uncles which you want were dangerous ; 
Your grace attended to their sugar' d words, 
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts ; 
God keep you from them, and from such false 
friends ! 



192 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Prince E. God keep me from false friends ! but 

they were none. 
Buck. My lord, the Mayor of London comes to 

greet you. 

Enter the Lord Mayor. 

Lord Mayor. God bless your grace with health 

and happy days ! 
Prince E. I thank you, good my lord; and 
thank you all. 
I thought my mother, and my brother York, 
Would long ere this have met us on the way ; 
Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come, 
Where shall we sojourn till our coronation ? 
Glos. Where it seems best unto your royal 
self. 
If I may counsel you, some day or two 
Your highness shall repose you at the Tower ; 
Then where you please and shall be thought 

most fit 
For your best health and recreation. 

Prince E. I do not like the Tower, of any place. 
Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord ? 
Buck. He did, my gracious lord, begin that 
place ; 
Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. 
Prince E. Is it upon record, or else reported 
Successively from age to age, he built it ? 
Buck. Upon record, my gracious lord. 
Prince E. But say, my lord, it were not reg- 
ister^. 
Methinks the truth should live from age to age, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 193 

As 'twere retail'd to all posterity, 
Even to the general all-ending day. 

Glos. So wise so young, they say, do ne'er live 
long. 

Prince E. What say you, uncle ? 

Glos. I say, without characters, fame lives 
long. 
Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity, 
I moralize two meanings in one word. 

Prince E. That Julius Caesar was a famous 
man; 
With what his valor did enrich his wit, 
His wit set down to make his valor live : 
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror ; 
For now he lives in fame, though not in life. 
I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham, — 

Buck. What, my gracious lord ? 

Prince E. An if I live until I be a man, 
I'd win our ancient right in France again, 
Or die a soldier, as I lived a king. 

Glos. Short summers lightly have a forward 
spring. 

Enter Duke of York and Hastings. 

Buck. Now, in good time, here comes the Duke 
of York. 

Prince E. Bichard of York ! how fares our lov- 
ing brother? 

Duke Y. Well, my dread lord ; so must I call 
you now. 

Prince E. Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is 
yours : 



194 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Too late lie died that might have kept that title, 
Which by his death hath lost much majesty. 
Glos. How fares our cousin, noble lord of 

York? 
Duke Y. I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my 
lord, 
You said that idle weeds are fast in growth : 
The prince my brother hath outgrown me far. 
Glos. He hath, my lord. 
Duke Y. And therefore is he idle ? 
Glos. O, my fair cousin, I must not say so. 
Duke Y. Then is he more beholding to you 

than I. 
Glos. He may command me as my sovereign ; 
But you have power in me as in a kinsman. 
Duke Y. I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger. 
Glos. My dagger, little cousin? with all my 

heart. 
Prince E. A beggar, brother ? 
Duke Y. Of my kind uncle, that I know will 
give; 
And being but a toy, which is no grief to give. 
Glos. A greater gift than that I'll give my 

cousin. 
Duke Y. A greater gift! O, that's the sword 

to it. 
Glos. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough. 
Duke Y. O, then, I see, you will part but with 
light gifts; 
In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay. 
Glos. It is too heavy for your grace to wear. 
Duke Y. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 195 

Glos. What, would you have my weapon, little 

lord? 
Duke Y. I would, that I might thank you as 

you call me. 
Glos. How? 
Duke Y. Little. 

Prince E. My Lord of York will still be cross 
in talk : 
Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him. 
Duke Y. You mean, to bear me, not to bear 
with me : 
Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me ; 
Because that I am little, like an ape, 
He thinks that you should bear me on your 
shoulders. 
Buck. With what a sharp-provided wit he 
reasons ! 
To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle, 
He prettily and aptly taunts himself : 
So cunning and so young is wonderful. 

Glos. My lord, will't please you pass along ? 
Myself and my good cousin Buckingham 
Will to your mother, to entreat of her 
To meet you at the Tower and welcome you. 
Duke Y. What! will you go unto the Tower, 

my lord ? 
Prince E. My lord protector needs will have 

it so. 
Duke Y. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. 
Glos. I'll warrant you : — King Henry lay there, 
And he sleeps in quiet. 
Why, what should you fear ? 



196 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Duke Y. Marry, my uncle Clarence's angry 
ghost : 
My grandam told me lie was murder'd there. 
Prince E. I fear no uncles dead. 
Glos. Nor none that live, I hope. 
Prince E. An if they live, I hope I need not 
fear. 
But come, my lord ; and with a heavy heart, 
Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower. 

Act IV., Scene I. 
Within the Tower. 

Lady Anne, Duke of York, Queen, Prince Edward, and 
Duchess of York. 

Prince E. Pray, madam, do not leave me yet, 
For I have many more complaints to tell you. 

Queen. And I unable to redress the least ; 
What wouldst thou say, my child ? 

Prince E. Oh, mother, sioce I have lain i' the 
Tower 
My rest has still been broke with frightful dreams, 
Or shocking news has wak'd me into tears ; 
I'm scarce allow'd a friend to visit me ; 
All my old honest servants are turn'd off, 
And in their room are strange ill-natur'd fellows, 
Who look so bold, as they were all my masters ; 
And I'm afraid they'll shortly take you from me. 

Due. Y. Oh, mournful hearing ! 

Lady A. Oh, unhappy prince ! 

Duke Y. Dear brother, why do you weep so ? 
You make me cry too. 

Queen. Alas, poor innocent ! 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 197 

Prince E. Would I but knew at what my uncle 
aims; 
If 'twere my crown, I'd freely give it him, 
So that he'd let me joy my life in quiet. 

Duke Y. Why, will my uncle kill us, brother? 
Prince E. I hope he won't ; we never injured 

him. 
Queen. I cannot bear to see 'em thus. 

Enter Lord Stanley. 

Lord Stan. Come, madam, you must straight 
to Westminster, 
There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. 
Anne. Despiteful tidings ! unpleasing news ! 
Stan. Come, madam, come ; I in all haste was 

sent. 
Anne. And I in all unwillingness will go. 
I would to God that the inclusive verge 
Of golden metal that must round my brow 
Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain ! 
Anointed let me be with deadly venom, 
And die ere men can say, God save the queen ! 
Queen. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory ; 
To feed my humor, wish thyself no harm. 

Anne. No ! why ? When he that is my hus- 
band now 
Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse, 
When scarce the blood was well washed from his 

hands 
Which issued from my other angel husband, 
And that dead saint which then I weeping fol- 
low'd ; 



198 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

0, when, I say, I look'd on Bichard's face, 
This was my wish : " Be thou," quoth I, " ac- 

curs'd, 
For making me, so young, so old a widow! 
And, when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy 

bed ; 
And be thy wife — if any be so mad — 
As miserable by the life of thee 
As thou hast made me by my dear lord's death !" 
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, 
Even in so short a space, my woman's heart 
Grossly grew captive to his honey words 
And proved the subject of my own soul's curse, 
Which ever since hath kept my eyes from rest ; 
For never yet one hour in his bed 
Have I enjoy'd the golden dew of sleep, 
But have been waked by his timorous dreams. 
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick : 
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me. 

Queen. Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy com- 
plaining. 
Anne. No more than from my soul I mourn for 

yours. 
Queen. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of 

glory ! 
Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy leave 

of it! 
Due. of Y. Go thou to Kichard, and good angels 

guard thee. 
[To Queen.] Go thou to sanctuary, and good 
thoughts possess thee ! 

1, to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me ! 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 190 

Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen, 
And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen. 
Prince E. Dear madam, take me hence : for I 
shall ne'er 
Enjoy a moment's quiet here. 

Duke Y. Nor I ; pray, mother, let me go too. 
Queen. Come, then, my pretty young ones, let's 
away ; 
For here you lie within the falcon's reach, 
Who watches but th' unguarded hour to seize 
you. 

Enter Lieutenant, l. 

Lieut. I beg your majesty will pardon me : 
But the young princes must on no account 
Have egress from the Tower : 
Nor must (without ihe king's especial license), 
Of what degree soever, any person 
Have admittance to 'em : — all must, retire. 

Queen. I am their mother, sir ; who else com- 
mands 'em ? 
If I pass freely they shall follow me. 
For you, I'll take the peril of your fault upon 
myself. 
Lieut. My inclination, madam, would oblige 
you; 
But I am bound by oath, and must obey : 
Nor, madam, can I now with safety answer 
For this continued visit. 

Queen. Oh, heavenly powers ! shall not I stay 

with them ? 
Lieut. Such are the king's commands, madam. 



200 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Queen. Support me, heaven ! 
For life can never bear the pangs of such a 

parting. 
Oh, my poor children ! Oh, distracting thought ! 
I dare not bid 'em as I should, farewell ; 
And then to part in silence stabs my soul ! 

Prince E. What, must you leave us, mother ? 

Queen. What shall I say ? 
But for a time, my loves : — we shall meet again : 
At least in heaven. 

Duke Y. Won't you take me with you, mother ? 
I shall be so 'fraid to stay, when you are gone. 

Queen. I cannot speak to 'em, and yet we must 
Be parted. 

Then let these kisses say farewell. 
Why, oh why, just heaven, must these be our 
last! 

Due. Y. Give not your grief such way : — be 
sudden when you part. 

Queen. I will : since it must be so : — to heaven 
I leave 'em. 
Hear me, ye guardian powers of innocence ! 
Awake or sleeping, oh protect 'em still ! 
Still may their helpless youth attract men's pity, 
That when the arm of cruelty is raised, 
Their looks may drop the lifted dagger down 
From the stern murderer's relenting hand, 
And throw him on his knees in penitence ! 

PrirweK) oh ther! mother! 

Duke Y. ) 

Queen. Oh, my poor children I 

Shakespeare (Adapted). 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND REGIT A TION 201 

MOTHER AND POET. 

Turin, after News from Gaeta, 1861. 

Dead ! One of them shot by the sea in the east, 

And one of them shot in the west by the sea. 
Dead! both my boys! When you sit at the 
feast 
And are wanting a great song for Italy free, 
Let none look at me ! 

Yet I was a poetess only last year, 

And good at my art, for a woman, men said ; 
But this woman, this, who is agonized here, 
— The east sea and west sea rhyme on in her 
head 
Forever instead. 

What art's for a woman ? To hold on her knees 
Both darlings ! to feel all their arms round her 
throat, 
Cling, strangle a little ! to sew by degrees 

And 'broider the long-clothes and neat little 
coat; 
To dream and to dote. 

To teach them. ... It stings there! / made 
them indeed 
Speak plain the word country. I taught them, 
no doubt, 
That a country's a thing men should die for at 
need. 
i" prated of liberty, rights, and about 
The tyrant cast out. 



202 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

And when their eyes flashed . . . O my beautiful 
eyes! . . . 
/ exulted ; nay, let them go forth at the wheels 
Of the guns, and denied not. But then the sur- 
prise 
When one sits quite alone ! Then one weeps, 
then one kneels. 
God, how the house feels ! 

At first, happy news came, in gay letters moiled 
With my kisses, — of camp-life and glory, and 
how 
They both loved me ; and, soon coming home to 
be spoiled, 
In return would fan off every fly from my brow 
With their green laurel-bough. 

Then was triumph at Turin : " Ancona was free !" 
And some one came out of the cheers in the 
street, 
With a face pale as stone, to say something to 
me. 
My Guido was dead ! I fell down at his feet, 
While they cheered in the street. 

I bore it ; friends soothed me ; my grief looked 
sublime 
As the ransom of Italy. One boy remained 
To be leant on and walked with, recalling the 
time 
When the first grew immortal, while both of us 
strained 
To the height he had gained. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 203 

And letters still came, shorter, sadder, more 
strong, 
Writ now but in one hand, "I was not to 
faint, — 
One loved me for two — would be with me ere long : 
And Viva V Italia! — he died for, our saint, 
Who forbids our complaint." 

My Nanni would add, " he was safe, and aware 
Of a presence that turned off the balls, — was 
imprest 
It was Guido himself, who knew what I could 
bear, 
And how 'twas impossible, quite dispossest, 
To live on for the rest." 

On which, without pause, up the telegraph-line 
Swept smoothly the next news from Gaeta : — 
Shot. 
Tell his mother. Ah, ah ! " his," " their " mother, — 
not " mine," 
No voice says " My mother" again to me. 
What! 
You think Guido forgot ? 

Are souls straight so happy, that, dizzy with 
heaven, 
They drop earth's affections, conceive not of 
woe? 

I think not. Themselves were too lately for- 
given 



204 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Through That Love and Sorrow which recon- 
ciled so 
The Above and Below. 

Both boys dead ? but that's out of nature. "We 
all 
Have been patriots, yet each house must al- 
ways keep one. 
'Twere imbecile, hewing out roads to a wall ; 
And when Italy's made, for what end is it 
done 
If we have not a son ? 

Ah, ah, ah ! when Gaeta's taken, what then ? 
When the fair wicked queen sits no more at her 
sport 
Of the fire-balls of death crashing souls out of 
men? 
When the guns of Cavalli with final retort 
Have cut the game short ? 

When Venice and Rome keep their new jubilee, 
When your flag takes all heaven for its white, 
green, and red, 
When you have your country from mountain to 
sea, 
When King Victor has Italy's crown on his 
head, 
(And I have my Dead) — 

What then ? Do not mock me. Ah, ring your 
bells low, 
And burn your lights faintly ! My country is 
there, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 205 

Above the star pricked by the last peak of snow : 
My Italy's there, with my brave civic Pair 
To disfranchise despair ! 

Dead ! One of them shot by the sea in the east, 
And one of them shot in the west by the sea. 

Both ! both my boys ! If in keeping the feast 
You want a great song for your Italy free, 
Let none look at me I 

[This was Laura Savio, of Turin, a poetess and patriot, 
whose sons were killed at Ancona and Gaeta.] 

Mrs. Browning. 

SCENE IN A TENEMENT HOUSE. 

I wended my way through wind and snow 
One winter's night to tenement row ; 
The place seemed under the ban and blight 
Of a ghostly spell, that stormy night. 
Unearthly footsteps seemed to fall 
In the dismal darkness down the hall ; 
Unearthly voices, deep and low, 
Seemed to whisper a tale of woe. 

From reeking angle, and rotten stair, 
As through the foul and fetid air 
I groped along, to a broken door 
Of a certain room, or rather den, 
Such as some wealthy, prosperous men 
Build, and rent to the homeless poor. 
The door was ajar : within all dark, 
Never an ember, never a spark 



206 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Glowed or glimmered athwart the gloom 
That hung like a pall in that wretched room. 

But I heard the patter of children's feet, 
And sounds of voices low and sweet; 
And one, he was only three years old, 
Said : " Sister, wot makes mamma so told ? 
Pease et me ake her," the sweet voice plead. 
"I's so hungry, I 'onts some bread. 
On'y the 'ittlest piece 'ill do, 
And Johnnie 'ill give a bit to you." 

" Hush, Johnnie, hush," the sister said ; 

"There's not a single crust of bread. 

Don't wake poor mamma, she's sick, you know, 

So sick and weak, she cannot sew. 

Don't you remember how she cried, 

When she bade me put my work aside, 

And how she kissed us when she said, 

The Father in Heaven will give us bread ? 

"All day long through snow and sleet 

I wandered up and down the street, 

And, Johnnie, I held my freezing hand 

To crowds of ladies rich and grand. 

But they did not hear me when I said, 

1 Please give me a penny to buy some bread ;' 

One beautiful lady turned and smiled, 

But she only said, ' Don't touch me, child.' 

" In their splendid clothes they all swept by, 
And I was so cold, but I did not cry. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 207 

Oh ! Johnnie, I never begged before, 

But I went to-day from door to door, 

Till my very heart grew faint and weak, 

And I shivered so, I could not speak. 

But when I remembered what mamma said : 

* The Father in Heaven will give you bread,' 

I forgot all the hunger and pain, 

And went on asking, and asking in vain, 

'Till I could hardly move my freezing feet. 

And when they lighted the lamps in the street, 

I came away through mud and mire, 

With nothing to eat or to make a fire ; 

But as I was passing Denny's shop, 

Some one called out, ' Stop, Katie, stop ! ' 

And out came little Sammie Dole, 

And filled my basket with wood and coal, 

So now we can have a fire, you see, 

And oh ! how nice and warm it will be ; 

And, Johnnie, if you will be still and good, 

I'll tell you Little Ked Biding Hood." 

" No, no, I's hungry," the wee one said ; 

" Tant oo dive me a 'ittle bread ? 

Dest a trum, I sint oo tood, 

And Johnnie 'ill do to seep and be dood." 

" There's not a crumb of bread ; don't cry, 
In the morning sister will try 
To get poor mamma a bit of meat 
And some nice bread for Johnnie to eat." 

By this time, the little cold blue hands 

Had heaped together some half charred brands 



208 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

And kindled a fire. Oh ! surely, the light 

Never revealed a sadder sight 

Than greeted my eyes that winter night. 

Walls damp and broken, a window bare, 

A rickety table, a bottomless chair, 

A floor discolored by soil and stain, 

Snow driving in through the window pane. 

Wee womanly Katie, scarce nine years old, 
Pinched and shrunken from hunger and cold, 
Sweet baby Johnnie, with dimpled feet, 
Crying and pleading for something to eat, 
A tattered bed, where the eye could trace 
A human form, with a sad white face, 
A sad white face, that had once been fair, 
Framed in a tangle of light brown hair ; 
The sad eyes closed, the lips apart, 
Small white hands crossed on a quiet heart. 

Softly Katie approached her now, 

And pressed a kiss on that marble brow, 

Then with a smothered cry she said : 

" Johnnie, oh ! Johnnie, mamma is dead !" 

Speak to me, mamma, one word !" she cried, 

" O speak to your Katie !" No voice replied. 

But Johnnie crept to the quiet breast 
Where the golden head was wont to rest, 
And nestling close to the icy form, 
Said, " I tan teep sweet mamma warm." 

But the mother, outworn in the struggle and 

strife 
Of the madness and toil of the battle of life, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 209 

Had silently gone to that beautiful shore 
Where the rich hath need of their gold no 
more. 



THE FEMALE MAETYE. 

" Bring out your dead !" The midnight street 
Heard and gave back the hoarse, low call ; 

Harsh fell the tread of hasty feet, 

Glanced through the dark the coarse white 
sheet, 
Her coffin and her pall. 

" What — only one !" the brutal hack-man said, 

As with an oath he spurned away the dead. 

How sunk the inmost hearts of all, 
As rolled that dead-cart slowly by, 

With creaking wheel and harsh hoof-fall ! 

The dying turned him to the wall, 
To hear it and to die ! 

Onward it rolled ; while oft its driver stayed, 

And hoarsely clamored, " Ho ! bring out your 
dead." 

It paused beside the burial-place ; 

" Toss in your load !" — and it was done. 
With quick hand and averted face, 
Hastily to the grave's embrace 

They cast them, one by one, 
Stranger and friend, the evil and the just, 
Together trodden in the churchyard dust ! 



210 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCU1ION. 

And thou, young martyr ! thou wast there ; 

No white-robed sisters round thee trod, 
Nor holy hymn, nor funeral prayer 
Rose through the damp and noisome air 

Giving thee to thy God ; 
Nor flower, nor cross, nor hallowed taper gave 
Grace to the dead, and beauty to the grave ! 

Yet, gentle sufferer ! there shall be, 

In every heart of kindly feeling, 
A rite as holy paid to thee 
As if beneath the convent-tree 

Thy sisterhood were kneeling, 
At vesper hours, like sorrowing angels, keeping 
Their tearful watch around thy place of sleeping. 

For thou wast one in whom the light 

Of Heaven's own love was kindled well ; 
Enduring with a martyr's might, 
Through weary day and wakeful night, 

Far more than words may tell : 
Gentle, and meek, and lowly, and unknown, 
Thy mercies measured by thy God alone ! 

Where manly hearts were failing, where 
The throngful street grew foul with death, 

O high-souled martyr ! thou wast there, 

Inhaling, from the loathsome air, 
Poison with every breath, 

Yet shrinking not from offices of dread 

For the wrung dying, and the unconscious dead. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 21 1 

And, where the sickly taper shed 

Its light through vapors, damp, confined, 

Hushed as a seraph's fell thy tread, 

A new Electra by the bed 
Of suffering human-kind ! 

Pointing the spirit, in its dark dismay, 

To that pure hope which fadeth not away. 

Innocent teacher of the high 

And holy mysteries of Heaven ! 
How turned to thee each glazing eye, 
In mute and awful sympathy, 

As thy low prayers were given ; 
And the o'er-hovering Spoiler wore, the while, 
An angel's features, — a deliverer's smile ! 

A blessed task ! and worthy one 

Who, turning from the world, as thou, 
Before life's pathway had begun 
To leave its spring-time flowers and sun, 

Had sealed her early vow ; 
Giving to God her beauty and her youth, 
Her pure affections and her guileless truth. 

Earth may not claim thee. Nothing here 

Could be for thee a meet reward ; 
Thine is a treasure far more dear : 
Eye hath not seen it, nor the ear 

Of living mortal heard, 
The joys prepared, the promised bliss above, 
The holy presence of Eternal Love ! 



212 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Sleep on in peace. The earth has not 
A nobler name than thine shall be. 

The deeds by martial manhood wrought, 

The lofty energies of thought, 
The fire of poesy, 

These have but frail and fading honors ; thine 

Shall Time unto Eternity consign. 

Yea, and when thrones shall crumble down, 
And human pride and grandeur fall, 

The herald's line of long renown, 

The mitre and the kingly crown, — 
Perishing glories all ! 

The pure devotion of thy generous heart 

Shall live in Heaven, of which it was a part. 

Wliittier. 

PANCRATIUS. 

A hush lay on the multitudes. Softly and low 
Died out the echoes of that mighty roar, 
Which rose triumphant but a space ago, 
As the strong wrestler, pale as Alpine snow, 
Keeled in his agony, and stirred no more. 

They bore him forth, and in his robe of pride 
The Roman courtier turned with smiling face, 
To woo the fair girl resting at his side, 
Who, in her beauty, calm and starry-eyed, 
Could view such struggles with a careless grace. 

But hark ! Along the smiling, sparkling tier, 
A murmur stole — the smile gave place to frown, 
And every eager eye grew cold and clear, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 213 

When light and graceful as a mountain deer, 
A Christian martyr sprang to win his crown ! 

It was a youth — a slight yet manly form — 
Who, with an eye like some unruffled lake, 
And virgin cheek with rosy blushes warm, 
Seemed all too tender for the cruel storm 
Whose giant force must either bend or break. 

And yet there was a calm upon the brow, 
And in those thoughtful eyes a holy peace 
As though the youthful martyr stood e'en now 
In triumph on a noble vessel's prow, 
Whose port was nigh, whose labors soon should 
cease. 

Slowly he turned, and o'er the swaying tide 
Of jeweled forms his gentle glance was flung 
Till many a Eoman maiden turned aside, 
Lest some might note the grief she could not hide 
At thought of death to one so fair and young. 

But pity, like the trembling moonbeam shed 
Athwart the dark waves of a stormy sea, 
O'er those untutored hearts, by passion led, 
Gleamed but a fitful space, then meekly fled, 
As things of light from darkness ever flee. 

And he, Pancratius, in his joyous race, 

Was nearing fast the long desired goal 

Ere age had dashed the beauty from that face, 

Whose shrine should be in time the fitting place 

To nerve the fainting faith or sinking soul ! 



214 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

He stood unmoved, e'en as the warrior stands 
Who neither courts nor shuns the coming fray ; 
But even as he clasped his slender hands, 
A door swung grating — and across the sands 
A lion stalked in majesty of might. 

There was no fury in his stately tread, 
No bloody thirst which hastens to destroy, 
But calm in power he raised his noble head, 
And with a kingly glory 'round him shed, 
Moved onward to that slender, graceful boy. 

Nearer he came ; upon the martyr's cheek 
The hot breath of the forest-monarch burned, 
Till once — but once — that brave young heart grew 

weak, 
When lo ! with startled look, all mild and meek, 
Back to its den the moaning lion turned ! 

Then rose that mighty multitude and loud 
Upswelled a shout of mingled joy and rage, 
As some their gladly tearful faces bowed, 
While others stood apart and, stormy-browed, 
Chafed like the maniac in his iron cage. 

But o'er that tide of sound which rudely gushed 

Till Tiber all her slumbering echoes woke — 

A clear young voice rang out, the din was 

hushed, 
And while his brow, uplifted, brightly blushed, 
With gentle grace, the young Pancratius spoke : 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 215 

" Patience, sweet friends," he cried, " bear yet 

awhile, 
For see, yon panther thirsts for liberty. 
'Twas he that freed my father from his toil ; 
Oh ! may he not" — and here a glorious smile 
Parted his bright lips — " set Pancratius free?" 

He paused — and men gazed, wonder-stricken, how 
Such thirst could be for that which mortals dread; 
Yet with a gloomy satisfaction on each brow, 
The fatal sign was made, and cageless, now 
A panther bounded forth with noiseless tread. 

Joyous in liberty, it frisked and played, 
And turned its shining neck in conscious pride ; 
Now in the yielding sand its form was laid ; 
Anon, with cat-like glee, low murmurs made, 
And shook the dusk sand from its glittering hide. 

At length it rose — its keen quick glance had 

caught 
The youthful martyr, as he stood apart, 
With all a mother's tender lips had taught, 
And all a Saviour's tender love had wrought, 
In that dread moment stealing o'er his heart. 

Earnest the Christian prayed, and breathless, 

men 
Beheld the look that crouching panther wore ; 
There was a pause — the echoes slept again — 
And then — oh ! just and righteous Father ! then 
One bound — one stroke — Pancratius dies no more! 

Eleanor C. Donnelly. 



216 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 
CATHEBINE AND GKIFFITH. 

Grij . How does your grace ? 

Cath. O Griffith, sick to death : 
My legs like loaded branches bow to th' earth, 
Willing to leave their burden : reach a chair. — 
So — now methinks I feel a little ease. 
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me, 
That the great child of honor, Cardinal Wolsey, 
Was dead. 

Grif. Yes, madam ; but I think your grace, 
Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to 't. 

Cath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he 
died? 
If well, he stept before me, happily, 
For my example. 

Grif. Well, the voice goes, madam, 
For after the stout Earl of Northumberland 
Arrested him at York, and brought him forward 
(As a man sorely tainted) to his answer, 
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill 
He could not sit his mule. 

Cath, Alas, poor man ! 

Grif. At last, with easy roads he came to Lei- 
cester, 
Lodg'd in the abbey ; where the reverend abbot, 
With all his convent, honorably receiv'd him ; 
To whom he gave these words : " Father Abbot, 
An old man broken with the storms of state, 
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; 
Give him a little earth for charity 4" 
So went to bed : where eagerly his sickness 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 217 

Pursued him still, and three nights after this, 
About the hour of eight (which he himself 
Foretold should be his last), full of repentance, 
Continual meditations, tears and sorrows, 
He gave his honors to the world again, 
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. 

Cath. So may he rest, his faults lie buried with 
him! 
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, 
And yet with charity ; he was a man 
Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking 
Himself with princes ; one that by suggestion 
Tithed all the kingdom ; simony was fair play : 
His own opinion was his law. I' th' presence 
He would say untruths, and be ever double 
Both in his words and meaning. He was never, 
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful. 
His promises were, as he then was, mighty ; 
But his performance, as he now is, nothing. 

Grif. Noble madam, 
Men's evil manners live in brass, their virtues 
We write in water. May it please your highness 
To hear me speak his good now ? 

Cath. Yes, good Griffith, 
I were malicious else. 

Grif. This Cardinal, 
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
Was fashion'd to much honor from his cradle : 
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; 
Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading ; 
Lofty, and sour to them that lov'd him not, 



218 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

But to those men that sought him sweet as sum- 
mer. 
And though he was unsatisfied in getting, 
(Which was a sin) yet in bestowing, madam, 
He was most princely ; ever witness for him, 
Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you, 
Ipswich and Oxford ! one of which fell with him, 
Unwilling to outlive the good he did it : 
The other, though unfinished, yet so famous, 
So excellent in art, and still so rising, 
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue ; 
His overthrow heaped happiness upon him ; 
For then, and not till then, he felt himself, 
And found the blessedness of being little : 
And to add greater honors to his age 
Than man could give him, he died, fearing God. 
Gath. After my death I wish no other herald, 
No other speaker, of my living actions, 
To keep mine honor from corruption, 
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. 
Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, 
With thy religious truth and modesty, 
Now in his ashes honor. Peace be with him ! 

Shakespeare. 

GUALBERTO'S VICTORY. 

A mountain pass so narrow that a man 
Riding that way to Florence, stooping, can 
Touch with his hand the rock, on either side, 
And pluck the flowers that in the crannies hide. 
Here, on Good Friday, centuries ago, 
Mounted and armed, John Gualbert met his foe, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 21 9 

Mounted and armed as well, but riding down 
To the fair city from the woodland brown, 
This way and that swinging his jewelled whip, 
A gay old love-song on his careless lip, 
And on his charger's neck the reins loose thrown. 

An accidental meeting ; but the sun 
Burned on their brows, as if it had been one 
Of deep design, so deadly was the look 
Of mutual hate their olive faces took, 
As (knightly courtesy forgot in wrath) 
Neither would yield his enemy the path. 
"Back!" cried Gualberto. "Never!" yelled his 

foe ; 
And on the instant, sword in hand, they throw 
Them from their saddles, nothing loath, 
And fall to fighting, with a smothered oath. 
A pair of shapely, stalwart cavaliers, 
Well-matched in stature, weapons, weight, and 

years, 
Theirs was a long, fierce struggle on the grass, 
Thrusting and parrying up and down the pass ; 
Swaying from left to right, in combat clenched. 
Till all the housings of their steeds were drenched 
With brutal gore, and ugly blood-drops oozed 
Upon the rocks, from head and hands contused. 
But at the close, when Gu albert stopped to rest, 
His heel was planted on his foeman's breast ; 
And looking up, the fallen courtier sees, 
As in a dream, gray rocks and waving trees 
Before his glazing vision faintly float, 
While Gualbert's sabre glitters at his throat. 



220 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" Now die, base wretch !" the victor fiercely cries, 
His heart of hate outflashing from his eyes : 
" Never again, by the all-righteous Lord ! 
Shalt thou with life escape this trusty sword, — 
Revenge is sweet I" And upward glanced the steel, 
But ere it fell, — dear Lord ! a silvery peal 
Of voices chanting in the town below, 
Grave, ghostly voices chanting far below, 
Rose, like a fountain's spray from spires of 

snow, 
And chimed and chimed to die in echoes slow. 

In the sweet silence following the sound, 
Gualberto and the man upon the ground 
Glared at each other with bewildered eyes 
(The glare of hunted deer on leashed hound) ; 
And then the vanquished, struggling to arise, 
Made one last effort, while his face grew dark 
With pleading agony : " Gualberto ! hark ! 
The chants — the hour — thou know'st the olden 

fashion, — 
The monks below intone our Lord's dear Pas- 
sion. 
Oh ! by this cross !" — and here he caught the hilt 
Of Gualbert's sword, — " and by the Blood once 

spilt 
Upon it for us both long years ago, 
Forgive — forget — and spare a fallen foe !" 

The face that bent above grew white and set 
(Christ or the demon ? — in the balance hung) : 
The lips were drawn, — the brow bedewed with 
sweat, — 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 221 

But on the grass the harmless sword was flung : 
And stooping down, the hero, generous, wrung 
The outstretched hand. Then, lest he lose con- 
trol 
Of the but half-tamed passions of his soul, 
Fled up the pathway, tearing casque and coat 
To ease the tempest throbbing at his throat ; 
Fled up the crags, as if a fiend pursued, 
And paused not till he reached a chapel rude. 

There, in the cool dim stillness, on his knees, 
Trembling, he flings himself, and, startled, sees 
Set in the rock a crucifix antique, 
From which the wounded Christ bends down to 
speak. 
" Thou hast done well, Gualberto. For My sake 
Thou didst forgive thine enemy ; now take 
My gracious pardon for thy times of sin , 
And from this day a better life begin.'''' 

White flashed the angels' wings about his head, 
Kare, subtile perfumes through the place were 

shed; 
And golden harps and sweetest voices poured 
Their glorious hosannas to the Lord, 
"Who in that hour, and in that chapel quaint, 
Changed by His power, by His dear love's con- 
straint, 
Gualbert the sinner into John the saint. 

Eleanor C. Donnelly. 



222 COERECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

QUEEN ARCHIDAMIA. 1 

"Pyrrhus next advanced against the city. It was resolved 
to send the women into Crete, but they remonstrated against 
it ; and Queen Archidamia, being appointed to speak for the 
rest, went into the council hall with a sword in her hand, and 
said that they did their wives great wrong if they thought 
them so faint-hearted as to live after Sparta was destroyed." 

The chiefs were met in the council hall ; 

Their words were sad and few ; 
They were ready to fight, and ready to fall 

As the sons of heroes do. 

And moored in the harbor Gythium lay 

The last of the Spartan fleet, 
That should bear the Spartan women away 

To the sunny shores of Crete. 

Their hearts went back to the days of old ; 

They thought of the world-wide shock, 
When the Persian host like an ocean rolled 

To the foot of the Grecian rock. 

And they turned their faces, eager and pale, 

To the rising roar in the street, 
As if the clank of the Spartan mail 

Were the tramp of the conquerors' feet. 

It was Archidamia, the Spartan queen, — 

Brave as her father's steel; 
She stood like the silence that comes between 

The flash and the thunder's peal. 

1 This recitation must be given with power and dignity. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 22'1 

She looked in the eyes of the startled crowd ; 

Calmly she gazed around ; 
Her voice was neither low nor loud, 

But it rang like her sword on the ground. 

" Spartans," she said, and her woman's face 
Flushed out both pride and shame, 

" I ask, by the memory of your race, 
Are ye worthy of your name ? 

" Ye have bidden us seek new hearths and graves, 

Beyond the reach of the foe ; 
And now, by the dash of the blue sea waves, 

We swear that we will not go ! 

" Is the name of Pyrrhus to blanch your cheeks ? 

Shall he burn, and kill, and destroy ? 
Are ye not sons of the deathless Greeks 

Who fired the gates of Troy % 

" What though his feet have scathless stood 

In the rush of the Punic foam ? 
Though his sword be red to its hilt with the 
blood 

That has beat at the heart of Kome ? 

" Brothers and sons ! we have reared you men ; 

Our walls are the ocean swell ; 
Our winds blow keen down the rocky glen 

Where the staunch Three Hundred fell. 



224 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" Our hearts are drenched in the wild sea flow, 
In the light of the hills and the sky ; 

And the Spartan women, if need be so, 
Will teach the men to die. 

" We are brave men's mothers, and brave men's 
wives ; 

We are ready to do and dare ; 
We are ready to man your walls with our lives, 

And string your bows with our hair. 

" Let the young and brave lie down to-night, 

And dream of the brave old dead, 
Their broad shields bright for to-morrow's fight, 

Their swords beneath their head. 

" Our breasts are better than bolts and bars ; 

We neither wail nor weep ; 
We will light our torches at the stars, 

And work while our warriors sleep. 

" We hold not the iron in our own blood 

Viler than strangers' gold ; 
The memory of our motherhood 

Is not to be bought and sold. 

" Shame to the traitor heart that springs 

To the faint soft arms of peace, 
If the Eoman eagle shook his wings 

At the very gates of Greece. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 225 

" Ask not the mothers who gave you birth 

To bid you turn and flee ; 
When Sparta is banished from the earth 

Her women can die and be free." 



PROLOGUE TO CATO. 

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, 
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart, 
To make mankind in conscious virtue bold, 
Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold ; 
For this the tragic muse first trod the stage, 
Commanding tears to stream through every age : 
Tyrants no more their savage nature kept, 
And foes to virtue wondered how they wept. 
Our author shuns by vulgar springs to move 
The hero's glory and the virgin's love ; 
In pitying love, we but our weakness show, 
And wild ambition well deserves its woe. 
Here tears shall flow from a more generous 

cause, 
Such tears as patriots shed for dying laws : 
He bids your breasts with ancient ardor rise, 
And calls forth Roman drops from British eyes. 
Virtue confessed in human shape he draws, 
What Plato taught, and godlike Cato was : 
No common object to your sight displays, 
But what with pleasure Heav'n itself surveys : 
A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, 
And greatly falling with a falling state ! 
While Cato gives his little senate laws, 
What bosom beats not in his country's cause ? 



226 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Who sees him act, but envies ev'ry deed ? 

Who hears him groan, and does not wish to 

bleed ? 
Ev'n when proud Caesar, midst triumphal cars, 
The spoils of nations, and the pomp of wars, 
Ignobly vain, and impotently great, 
Showed Rome her Cato's figure drawn in state ; 
As her dead father's rev'rend image past, 
The pomp was darkened, and the day o'ercast, 
The triumph ceased — tears gushed from ev'ry 

eye, 
The world's great victor passed unheeded by ; 
Her last good man dejected Rome adored, 
And honored Caesar's less than Cato's sword. 

Pope. 

CATO'S SENATE. 

Cato. Fathers, we once again are met in 
council. 
Caesar's approach has summoned us together, 
And Rome attends her fate from our resolves ; 
How shall we treat this bold aspiring man? 
Success stills follows him, and backs his crimes : 
Pharsalia gave him Rome. Egypt has since 
Received his yoke, and the whole Nile is Caesar's. 
Why should I mention Juba's overthrow, 
And Scipio's death ? Numidia's burning sands 
Still smoke with blood. 'Tis time we should de- 
cree 
What course to take. Our foe advances on us, 
And envies us even Libya's sultry deserts. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 227 

Fathers, pronounce your thoughts : are they still 

fixed 
To hold it out and fight it to the last ? 
Or are your hearts subdued at length, and 

wrought 
By time and ill success to a submission ? 
Sempronius, speak. 

Sempronius. My voice is still for war. 
Gods ! can a Roman senate long debate 
Y/hich of the two to choose, slav'ry or death ? 
No, let us rise at once, gird on our swords, 
And at the head of our remaining troops 
Attack the foe, break through the thick array 
Of his thronged legions, and charge home upon 

him. 
Perhaps some arm, more lucky than the rest, 
May reach his heart, and free the world from 

bondage. 
Rise, fathers, rise ! 'tis Rome demands your help ; 
Rise, and revenge her slaughtered citizens, 
Or share their fate ! The corpse of half her sen- 
ate 
Manure the fields of Thessaly, while we 
Sit here delib'rating in cold debates 
If we should sacrifice our lives to honor, 
Or wear them out in servitude and chains. 
Rouse up for shame ! Our brothers of Pharsalia 
Point at their wounds, and cry aloud, To battle ! 
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are 

slow, 
And Scipio's ghost walks unrevenged among usl 
Cato. Let not a torrent of impetuous zeal 



228 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Transport thee thus beyond the bounds of 

reason : 
True fortitude is seen in great exploits 
That justice warrants and that wisdom guides : 
All else is tow'ring frenzy and distraction. 
Are not the lives of those who draw the sword 
In Rome's defence entrusted to our care ? 
Should we thus lead them to a field of slaughter, 
Might not th' impartial world with reason say, 
We lavished at our deaths the blood of thousands, 
To grace our fall, and make our ruin glorious ? 
Lucius, we next would know what's your opinion. 
Lucius. My thoughts, I must confess, are turned 
on peace. 
Already have our quarrels filled the world 
"With widows and with orphans ; Scythia mourns 
Our guilty wars, and earth's remotest regions 
Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome : 
'Tis time to sheath the sword, and spare man- 
kind. 
It is not Caesar, but the gods, my fathers, 
The gods declare against us, and repel 
Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle, 
(Prompted by blind revenge, and wild despair) 
Were to refuse th' awards of Providence, 
And not to rest in Heaven's determination. 
Already have we shown our love to Rome, 
Now let us show submission to the gods. 
We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves, 
But free the commonwealth ; when this end fails, 
Arms have no further use : our country's cause, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITA TION 229 

That drew our swords, now wrests 'em from our 

hands, 
And bids us not delight in Roman blood, 
Unprofitably shed ; what men could do 
Is doue already ; heaven and earth will witness, 
If Rome must fall, that we are innocent. 

Sem. This smooth discourse and mild behav- 
ior oft 
Conceal a traitor. Something whispers me 
All is not right. Cato, beware of Lucius. 

Gato. Let us appear not rash nor diffident ; 
Immod'rate valor swells into a fault ; 
And fear admitted into public councils 
Betrays like treason. Let us shun 'em both. 
Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs 
Are grown thus desp'rate ; we have bulwarks 

round us : 
Within our walls are troops inured to toil 
In Afric's heats, and seasoned to the sun ; 
Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us, 
Ready to rise at its young prince's call. 
While there is hope, do not distrust the gods : 
But wait at least till Caesar's near approach 
Force us to yield. 'Twill never be too late 
To sue for chains, and own a conqueror. 
Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time ? 
No, let us draw our term of freedom out 
In its full length, and spin it to the last, 
So shall we gain still one day's liberty : 
And let me perish, but in Cato's judgment, 
A day, an hour of virtuous liberty, 
Is worth a whole eternity in bondage. 



230 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Enter Marcus. 

Marc. Fathers, this moment, as I watched the 

gate, 
Lodged on my post, a herald is arrived 
From Caesar's camp, and with him comes old 

Decius, 
The Roman knight : he carries in his looks 
Impatience, and demands to speak with Cato. 
Cato. By your permission, fathers, bid him 

enter. 
Decius was once my friend, but other prospects 
Have loosed those ties, and bound him fast to 

Caesar. 
His message may determine our resolves. 

Enter Decius. 

Dec. Caesar sends health to Cato — 

Cato. Could he send it 
To Cato's slaughtered friends it would be wel- 
come. 
Are not your orders to address the senate ? 

Dec. My business is with Cato ; Caesar sees 
The straits to which you're driven ; and, as he 

knows 
Cato's high worth, is anxious for your life. 

Cato. My life is grafted on the fate of Rome. 
Would he save Cato, bid him spare his country. 
Tell your dictator this : and tell him, Cato 
Disdains a life which he has power to offer. 

Dec. Rome and her senators submit to Caesar ; 
Her gen'rals and her consuls are no more, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 231 

Who checked his conquest, and denied his tri- 
umphs. 
Why will not Cato be this Caesar's friend ? 

Gato. Those very reasons thou hast urged for- 
bid it. 

Dec. Cato, I've orders to expostulate, 
And reason with you, as from friend to friend ; 
Think on the storm that gathers o'er your head, 
And threatens ev'ry hour to burst upon it ; 
Still may you stand high in your country's honors, 
Do but comply, and make your peace with Caesar. 
Rome will rejoice, and cast its eyes on Cato, 
As on the second of mankind. 

Cato. No more : 
I must not think of life on such conditions. 

Dec. Caesar is well acquainted with your virtues, 
And therefore sets this value on your life : 
Let him but know the price of Cato's friendship, 
And name your terms. 

Cato. Bid him disband his legions, 
Restore the commonwealth to liberty, 
Submit his actions to the public censure, 
And stand the judgment of a Roman senate. 
Bid him do this, and Cato is his friend. 

Dec. Cato, the world talks loudly of your wis- 
dom — 

Cato. Nay more, tho' Cato's voice was ne'er 
employed 
To clear the guilty, and to varnish crimes, 
Myself will mount the Rostrum in his favor, 
And strive to gain his pardon from the people. 

Dec. A style like this becomes a conqueror. 



232 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Cato. Deems, a style like this becomes a He- 
man. 
Dec. What is a Roman that is Caesar's foe ? 
Cato. Greater than Caesar : he's a friend to 

virtue. 
Dec. Consider, Cato, you're in Utica, 
And at the head of your own little senate ; 
You don't now thunder in the Capitol, 
With all the mouths of Borne to second you. 
Cato. Let him consider that, who drives us 
hither. 
'Tis Caesar's sword has made Rome's senate little, 
And thinned its ranks. Alas ! thy dazzled eye 
Beholds this man in a false glaring light, 
Which conquest and success have thrown upon 

him ; 
Did'st thou but view him right, thou'dst see him 

black 
With murder, treason, sacrilege, and crimes 
That strike my soul with horror but to name 

'em. 
I know thou look'st on me as on a wretch 
Beset with ills, and covered with misfortunes ; 
But, by the gods I swear, millions of worlds 
Should never buy me to be like that Caesar. 
Dec. Does Cato send this answer back to 
Caesar, 
For all his gen'rous cares, and proffered friend- 
ship ? 
Cato. His cares for me are insolent and vain ; 
Presumptuous man ! the gods take care of Cato. 
Would Caesar show the greatness of his soul, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 233 

Bid him employ his care for these my friends, 
And make good use of his ill-gotten power, 
By shelt'ring men much better than himself. 
Dec. Your high unconquered heart makes you 
forget 
You are a man. You rush on your destruction. 
But I have done. When I relate hereafter 
The tale of this unhappy embassy, 
All Rome will be in tears. 

Addison. 

THE BATTLE OP WATERLOO. 

There was a sound of revelry by night, 
And Belgium's capital had gathered then 
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright 
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave 

men ; 
A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when 
Music rose with its voluptuous swell, 
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, 
And all went merry as a marriage-bell ; 
But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a 
rising knell ! 

Did ye not hear it ? — No, 'twas but the wind, 
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street ; 
On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ; 
No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure 

meet 
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet — 
But hark ! that heavy sound breaks in once 

more, 



234 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; 
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! 
Arm ! arm ! it is — it is — the cannon's opening 
roar! 

Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, 
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, 
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness. 
And there were sudden partings, such as press 
The life from out young hearts, and choking 

sighs 
Which ne'er might be repeated ; who could 

guess 
If evermore should meet those mutual eyes, 
Since upon night so sweet such awful morn 

could rise ! 

And there was mounting in hot haste the steed ; 
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car 
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; 
And the deep thunder peal on peal afar : 
And near, the beat of the alarming drum 
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; 
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, 
Or whispering, with white lips — " The foe ! they 
come ! they come !" 

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, 
Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay, 
The midnight brought the signal sound of strife, 



SELECTIONS FOli READING AND RECITATION. 235 

The morn the marshalling in arms — the day 

Battle's magnificently stern array ! 

The thunder-clonds close o'er it, which, when 

rent, 
The earth is covered thick with other clay, 
Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and 

pent, 
Rider and horse — friend, foe — in one red burial 

blent ! 

B I) ron. 

THE BRIDAL OF MALAHIDE. 

The joy-bells are ringing in gay Malahide, 

The fresh wind is singing along the sea-side ; 

The maids are assembling with garlands of flow- 
ers, 

And the harp-strings are trembling in all the glad 
bowers. 

Swell, swell the gay measure ! roll trumpet and 

drum ! 
'Mid greetings of pleasure in splendor they 

come ! 
The chancel is ready, the portal stands wide, 
For the lord and the lady, the bridegroom and 

bride. 

Before the high altar young Maud stands ar- 
rayed ! 
With accents that falter her promise is made — 
From father and mother forever to part, 
For him and no other to treasure her heart. 



236 CORBECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

The words are repeated, the bridal is done, 
The rite is completed — the two, they are one ; 
The vow, it is spoken all pure from the heart, 
That must not be broken till life shall depart. 

Hark ! 'mid the gay clangor that compassed their 

car, 
Loud accents in anger come mingling afar ! 
The foe 's on the border ! his weapons resound 
Where the lines in disorder unguarded are found ! 

As wakes the good shepherd, the watchful and 

bold, 
When the ounce or the leopard is seen in the 

fold, 
So rises already the chief in his mail, 
While the new-married lady looks fainting and 

pale. 

" Son, husband, and brother, arise to the strife, 
For sister and mother, for children and wife ! 
O'er hill and o'er hollow, o'er mountain and 

plain, 
Up, true men, and follow ! let dastards remain !" 

Farrah ! to the battle ! They form into line — 
The shields, how they rattle ! the spears, how 

they shine ! 
Soon, soon shall the foeman his treachery rue — 
On, burgher and yeoman ! to die or to do ! 

The eve is declining in lone Malahide : 
The maidens are twining gay wreaths for the 
bride ; 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 237 

She marks them unheeding — her heart is afar, 
Where the clansmen are bleeding for her in the 
war. 

Hark ! loud from the mountain — 'tis victory's 

cry! 
O'er woodland and fountain it rings to the sky ! 
The foe has retreated ! he flees to the shore ; 
The spoiler's defeated — the combat is o'er ! 

With foreheads unruffled the conquerors come — 
But why have they muffled the lance and the 

drum? 
What form do they carry aloft on his shield ? 
And where does he tarry, the lord of the field ? 

Ye saw him at morning, how gallant and gay ! 
In bridal adorning, the star of the day : 
Now, weep for the lover — his triumph is sped, 
His hope, it is over ! — the chieftain is dead ! 

But, oh ! for the maiden who mourns for that 

chief, 
With heart overladen, and broken with grief ! 
She sinks on the meadow : — in one morning-tide, 
A wife and a widow, a maid and a bride ! 

Ye maidens attending, forbear to condole ! 
Your comfort is rending the depths of her soul. 
True — true, 'twas a story for ages of pride ; 
He died in his glory — but, oh, he has died ! 

Gerald Griffin (Altered). 



238 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 
THE MOUENEES. 

King Death sped forth in his dreaded power 
To make the most of his tyrant hour ; 
And the first he took was a white-robed girl, 
With the orange bloom twined in each glossy 

curl. 
Her fond betrothed hung over the bier, 
Bathing her shroud with the gushing tear : 
He madly raved, he shrieked his pain, 
With frantic speech and burning brain. 
"There's no joy," cried he, "now my dearest is 

gone, 
Take, take me, Death ; for I cannot live on !" 

The valued friend, too, was snatched away, 
Bound to another from childhood's day ; 
And the friend that was left exclaimed in despair, 
" Oh ! he sleeps in the grave — let me follow him 
there!" 

A mother was taken, whose constant love 
Had nestled her child like a fair young dove ; 
And the heart of that child to the mother had 

grown 
Like the ivy to oak, or moss to the stone ; 
Nor loud nor wild was the burst of woe, 
But the tide of anguish ran strong below ; 
And the reft one turned from all that was light, 
From the flowers of day and the stars of night ; 
Breathing where none might hear or see — 
"Where thou art, my mother, thy child would 

be." 



SELECTIONS FOIi HEADING AND 11EC1TA T10N. 289 

Death smiled as he heard each earnest word : 

" Nay, nay," said he, " be this work deferred ; 

I'll see you again in a fleeting year, 

And, if grief and devotion live on sincere, 

I promise then ye shall share the rest 

Of the beings now plucked from your doting 

breast ; 
Then, if ye crave still the coffin and pall 
As ye do this moment, my spear shall fall." 
And Death fled till time on his rapid wing 
Again brought back the skeleton king. 

But the lover was ardently wooing again, 
Kneeling in serfdom, and proud of his chain ; 
He had found an idol again to adore, 
Barer than that he had worshipped before : 
His step was gay, his laugh was loud, 
As he led the way for the bridal crowd ; 
And his eyes still kept their joyous ray, 
Though he went by the grave where his first love 

lay. 
" Ha ! ha !" shouted Death, " 'tis passing clear 
That I am a guest not wanted here !" 

The friend again was quaffing the bowl, 
Warmly pledging his faith and soul ; 
His bosom cherished with glowing pride 
A stranger form that sat by his side ; 
His hand the hand of that stranger pressed ; 
He praised his song, he echoed his jest ; 
And the mirth and wit of that new-found mate 
Made a blank of the name so prized of late. 



240 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" See ! see !" cried Death, as he hurried past, 
" How bravely the bonds of friendship last !" 

But the orphan child ! Oh, where was she ? 

With clasping hands and bended knee, 

All alone on the churchyard sod, 

Mingling the names of mother and God. 

Her dark and sunken eye was hid, 

Fast weeping beneath the sunken lid ; 

Her sighs were heavy, her forehead was chill, 

Betraying the wound was unhealed still ; 

And her smothered prayer was yet heard to crave 

A speedy home in the self-same grave. 

Hers was the love all holy and strong ; 

Hers was the sorrow fervent and long ; 

Hers was the spirit whose light was shed 

As an incense fire above the dead. 

Death lingered there, and paused awhile ; 

But she beckoned him on with a welcoming 

smile. 
" There's a solace," cried she, " for all others to 

find, 
But a mother leaves no equal behind." 
And the kindest blow Death ever gave 
Laid the mourning child in the mother's grave. 

E. Cook, 

AN ORDER FOR A PICTURE. 

O good painter, tell me true, 
Has your hand the cunning to draw 
Shapes of things that you never saw ? 

Ay ? Well, here is an order for you. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 241 

Woods and cornfields, a little brown, — 
The picture must not be over-bright, 
Yet all in the golden and gracious light 

Of a cloud, when the summer sun is down. 
Alway and alway, night and morn, 
Woods upon woods, with fields of corn 
Lying between them, not quite sere, 

And not in the full, thick, leafy bloom, 

When the wind can hardly find breathing-room 
Under their tassels, — cattle near, 

Biting shorter the short green grass, 

And a hedge of sumach and sassafras, 

With bluebirds twittering all around, — 

(Ah, good painter, you can't paint sound !) 
These, and the house where I was born, 

Low and little, and black and old, 

With children, many as it can hold, 

All at the windows, open wide, — 

Heads and shoulders clear outside, 

And fair young faces all ablush : 

Perhaps you may have seen, some day, 
Hoses crowding the self-same way, 

Out of a wilding, wayside bush. 

Listen closer. When you have done 

With woods and cornfields and grazing herds, 

A lady, the loveliest ever the sun 
Looked down upon, you must paint for me ; 
Oh, if I only could make you see 

The clear blue eyes, the tender smile, 
The sovereign sweetness, the gentle grace, 
The woman's soul, and the angel's face 



242 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

That are beaming on me all the while, 
I need not speak these foolish words : 
Yet one word tells you all I would say, — 
She is my mother : you will agree 
That all the rest may be thrown away. 

Two little urchins at her knee 
You must paint, sir ; one like me, 
The other with a clearer brow, 

And the light of his adventurous eyes 

Flashing with boldest enterprise : 
At ten years old he went to sea, — 
God knoweth if he be living now ; 

He sailed in the good ship " Commodore," — 
Nobody ever crossed her track 
To bring us news, and she never came back. 

Ah, 'tis twenty long years and more 
Since that old ship went out of the bay 

With my great-hearted brother on her deck : 

I watched him till he shrank to a speck, 
And his face was toward me all the way. 
Bright his hair was, a golden brown, 

The time we stood at our mother's knee : 
That beauteous head, if it did go down, 

Carried sunshine into the sea ! 

Out in the fields one summer night 

We were together, half afraid 

Of the corn-leaves' rustling, and of the shade 
Of the high hills, stretching so still and far, — 
Loitering till after the low little light 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 243 

Of the candle shone through the open door, 
Afraid to go home, sir ; for one of us bore 
A nest full of speckled and thin-shelled eggs ; 
The other, a bird, held fast by the legs, 
Not so big as a straw of wheat : 
The berries we gave her she wouldn't eat, 
But cried and cried, till we held her bill, 
So slim and shining, to keep her still. 

At last we stood at our mother's knee. 
Do you think, sir, if you try, 
You can paint the look of a lie ? 
If you can, pray have the grace 
To put it solely in the face 
Of the urchin that is likest me : 

I think 'twas solely mine, indeed : 
But that's no matter, — paint it so ; 

The eyes of our mother — (take good heed) — 
Looking not on the nest full of eggs, 
Nor the fluttering bird, held so fast by the legs, 
But straight through our faces down to our lies, 
And oh, with such injured, reproachful surprise ! 
I felt my heart bleed where that glance went, 

as though 
A sharp blade struck through it. 

You, sir, know 
That you on the canvas are to repeat 
Things that are fairest, things most sweet, — 
Woods and cornfields and mulberry tree, — 
The mother, — the lads, with their bird, at her 
knee : 



244 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

But, oh, that look of reproachful woe ! 
High as the heavens your name I'll shout, 

If you paint me the picture, and leave that out. 

Alice Cary. 

THE ROSARY OF MY TEARS. 

Some reckon their ages by years, 
Some measure their life by art — 

But some tell their days by the flow of their 
tears, 

And their life by the moans of their heart. 

The dials of earth may show 
The length, not the depth of years, 
Few or many they come, few or many they go — 
But our time is best measured by fears. 

Ah ! not by the silver gray 
That creeps through the sunny hair, 
And not by the scenes that we pass on our way — 
And not by the furrows the finger of care 

On the forehead and face have made — 
Not so do we count our years ; 
Not by the sun of the earth, but the shade 
Of our souls, and the fall of our tears. 

For the young are oft-times old, 
Though their brow be bright and fair ; 

While their blood beats warm their heart lies 
cold — 

O'er them the spring-time, but winter is there. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 245 

And the old are oft-times young 
When their hair is thin and white, 
And they sing in age as in youth they sung, 
And they laugh, for their cross was light. 

But bead by bead I tell 

The rosary of my years ; 
From a cross to a cross they lead — 'tis well ! 
And they're blessed with a blessing of tears. 

Better a day of strife 

Than a century of sleep ; 
Give me instead of a long stream of life 
The tempest and tears of the deep. 

A thousand joys may foam 

On the billows of all the years ; 

But never the foam brings the brave bark home : 

It reaches the haven through tears. 

Father Ryan. 

LABOK. 

There is a perennial nobleness, and even 
sacredness, in work. Were a man ever so be- 
nighted, or forgetful of his high calling, there is 
always hope in him who actually and earnestly 
works ; in idleness alone is there perpetual de- 
spair. Consider how, even in the meanest sorts 
of labor, the whole soul of a man is composed 
into real harmony. He bends himself with free 
valor against his task ; and doubt, desire, sorrow, 
remorse, indignation, despair itself, shrink mur- 
muring far off into their caves. The glow of 



246 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

labor in him is a purifying fire, wherein all poison 
is burnt up ; and of smoke itself there is made a 
bright and blessed flame. 

Blessed is he who has found his work ; let him 
ask no other blessedness ; he has a life purpose. 
Labor is life. From the heart of the worker rises 
the celestial force, breathed into him by Al- 
mighty God, awakening him to all nobleness, to 
all knowledge. Hast thou valued patience, cour- 
age, openness to light, or readiness to own thy 
mistakes? In wrestling with the dim, brute 
powers of Fact, thou wilt continually learn. For 
every noble work, the possibilities are diffused 
through immensity — undiscoverable, except to 
Faith. 

Man, son of heaven ! is there not in thine in- 
most heart a spirit of active method, giving thee 
no rest till thou unfold it? Complain not. 
Look up, wearied brother. See thy fellow-work- 
men surviving through eternity — the sacred band 
of immortals ! 

Thomas Carlyle. 

THE RUSTIC BRIDAL; 

or, the Blind Girl of Castel Cuille. 

At the foot of the mountain height 

Where is perched the Castel Cuille, 

When the apple, the plum, and the almond tree 

In the plain below were growing white, 

This is the song one might perceive 

On a Wednesday morn of St. Joseph's Eve : 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND RECITATION 247 

" The roads should blossom, the roads should 

bloom, 
So fair a bride shall leave her home ; 
Should blossom and bloom with garlands gay, 
So fair a bride shall pass to-day." 
This old Te Deum, rustic rites attending, 
Seemed from the clouds descending, 
When lo ! a merry company 
Of rosy village girls, clean as the eye, 
Each one with her attendant swain, 
Came to the cliff, all singing the same strain ; 
Kesembling there, so near unto the sky, 
Rejoicing angels, that kind Heaven has sent 
For their delight and our encouragement. 

Together blending, 

And soon descending 

The narrow sweep 

Of the hillside steep, 

They wind aslant 

Toward Saint Amant, 

Through leafy alleys 

Of verdurous valleys 

With merry sallies 

Singing their chant : 

" The roads should blossom, the roads should 

bloom, 
So fair a bride shall leave her home, 
Should blossom and bloom with garlands gay, 
So fair a bride shall pass to-day." 

It is Baptiste, and his affianced maiden, 
With garlands for the bridal laden. 



248 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Gayly frolicking, 
Wildly rollicking ! 
Kissing, 
Caressing, 
With fingers pressing, 
Till in the veriest 
Madness of mirth, as they dance, 
They retreat and advance, 
Trying whose laugh shall be loudest and 
merriest. 
Meanwhile Baptiste stands sighing, with silent 

tongue ; 
And yet the bride is fair and young ! 

Now you must know one year ago, 

That Margaret, the young and tender, 

Was the village pride and splendor ; 

But, alas ! the summer's blight, 

That dread disease that none can stay, 

The pestilence that walks by night, 

Took the young bride's sight away. 

Bereft of joy, ere long the lover fled ; 

Beturned but three days ago, 

The golden chain they round him throw, 

He is enticed, and onward led 

To marry Angela, and yet 

Is thinking ever of Margaret. 

But here comes crippled Jane, the village seer, 

She wears a countenance severe, 

And saith, "When Angela weddeth this false 

bridegroom, 
She diggeth for Margaret a tomb." 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 249 

Beautiful as some fair angel yet, 
Thus lamented Margaret : 
" He lias arrived ; arrived at last, 
Yet Jane has named him not these three days 

past; 
But some one comes ! Though blind, my heart 

can see ! 
And that deceives me not ! 'tis he ! 'tis he !" 
With outstretched arms, but sightless eyes, 
She rises ; 'tis only Paul, her brother, who thus 

cries : 
" Angela, the bride, has passed. 
Tell me, my sister, why were we not asked?" 
" Angela married ! and not send 
To tell her secret unto me ! 
Oh ! speak ! who may the bridegroom be ?" 
" My sister, 'tis Baptiste, thy friend !" 
A cry the blind girl gave, but nothing said ; 
A milky whiteness upon her cheek is spread. 
" Hark ! the joyous airs are ringing ! 
Sister, dost thou hear them singing ? 
How merrily they laugh and jest ! 
Would we were bidden with the rest ! 
I would don my hose of homespun gray, 
And my doublet of linen, striped and gay. 
Perhaps they will come ; for they do not wed 
Till to-morrow at seven, it is said !" 
" Paul, be not sad ! 'tis a holiday ; 
To-morrow put on thy doublet gay ; 
But leave me now for awhile alone." 

Away with a hop and a jump went Paul, 
And as he whistled along the hall, 



250 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Entered Jane, the crippled crone. 

" I'm faint ! What dreadful heat ! 

My little friend ! what ails thee, sweet ?" 

" Nothing ! I heard them singing home the bride ; 

And as I listened to the song, 

I thought my turn would come ere long : 

Thou knowest it is at Whitsuntide." 

Jane, shuddering, her hand doth press ; 

" Thy love I cannot all approve ; 

We must not trust too much to happiness : 

Go, pray to God that thou may'st love him less." 

" The more I pray the more I love ! 

It is no sin, for God is on my side !" 

It was enough, and Jane no more replied, 

But when departing at the evening's close, 

She murmured, " She may be saved, she nothing 

knows !" 
Now rings the bell, nine times reverberating. 
And the white daybreak, stealing up the sky, 
Sees in two cottages two maidens waiting, 

How differently ! 
The one fantastic, light as air, 

'Mid kisses ringing 

And joyous singing 
Forgets to say her morning prayer ! 
The other, with cold drops upon her brow, 
Joins her two hands and kneels upon the floor, 
And whispers, as her brother opes the door, 
" O God ! forgive me now!" 
And then the orphan, young and blind, 
Conducted by her brother's hand, 
Toward the church, through paths unscanned, 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND RECITATION 251 

With tranquil air her way doth wind. 

" Paul," said Margaret, " where are we? we as- 
cend !" 

" Yes, we are at our journey's end ! 

Come in ! The bride will be here soon ; 

Thou tremblest ! O Margaret ! art going to 
swoon ?" 

But no more restrained, no more afraid, 

She walks, as for a feast arrayed, 

And in the ancient chapel's sombre night 

They both are lost to sight. 

The guests delay not long, 

Soon arrives the village throng. 

The wedding-ring is blessed ; Baptiste receives it, 

Ere on the finger of the bride he leaves it. 

He must say one word ! 'tis said, and suddenly 
at his side, 

" 'Tis he !" a well-known voice hath cried. 

Andwhilethe wedding guests all hold their breath, 

Lo ! Margaret, the blind girl, see ! 

" Baptiste," she said, " since thou hast wished 
my death, 

I freely sacrifice myself for thee !" 

And calmly in the air a knife suspended. 

Doubtless her guardian angel near attended, 

For anguish did its work so well, 

That ere the fatal stroke descended 

Lifeless she fell! 

At eve, instead of bridal verse, 
The De Profundis filled the air ; 
Decked with flowers a simple hearse 
To the churchyard forth they bear. 



252 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Village girls in robes of snow 

Follow, weeping as they go ; 

Nowhere was a smile that day, 

No, ah ! no ! for each one seemed to say : 

" The road should mourn and be veiled in gloom, 
So fair a corpse shall leave its home ; 
Should mourn and should weep, ah ! well- away ! 
So fair a corpse shall pass to-day." 

Longfellow. 

THE BBAVEST BATTLE THAT EVEB "WAS FOUGHT. 

The bravest battle that ever was fought, 
Shall I tell you where and when ? 

On the maps of the world you will find it not ; 
'Twas fought by the mothers of men. 

Nay, not with cannon, or battle-shot, 

With sword, or nobler pen ; 
Nay, not with eloquent word or thought, 

From mouths of wonderful men. 

But deep in a walled-up woman's heart — 

Of woman that would not yield, 
But bravely, silently bore her part — 

Lo ! there is that battle-field ! 

No marshalling troop, no bivouac song ; 

No banners to gleam and wave ! 
But oh ! these battles they last so long — 

From babyhood to the grave ! 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 253 

Yet faithful still as a bridge of stars, 
She fights in her walled-up town — 

Fights on, and on, in the endless wars, 
Then silent, unseen goes down ! 

Oh ! ye with banners and battle-shot, 

And soldier to shout and praise, 
I tell you the kingliest victories fought 

Are fought in these silent ways ! 

Oh ! spotless woman in a world of shame, 

With splendid and silent scorn, 
Go back to God as white as you came, 

The kingliest warrior born. 

Joaquin Miller. 

THE "WIVES OF .WEINSBEKG. 

Which way to Weinsberg ? neighbor, say ! 

'Tis sure a famous city : 
It must have cradled, in its day, 
Full many a maid of noble clay, 

And matrons wise and witty ; 
And if ever marriage should happen to me, 
A Weinsberg dame my wife shall be. 

King Conrad once, historians say, 
Fell out with this good city : 
So down he came, one luckless day, 
Horse, foot, dragoons, in stern array, 

And cannon, — more's the pity ! 
Around the walls the artillery roared, 
And bursting bombs their fury poured. 



254 COREECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

But naught the little town could scare ; 

Then, red with indignation, 
He bade the herald straight repair 
Up to the gates, and thunder there 

The following proclamation : 
" Eascals ! when I your town do take, 
No living thing shall save its neck !" 

Now, when the herald's trumpet sent 
These tidings through the city, 

To every house a death-knell went ; 

Such murder-cries the hot air rent 
Might move the stones to pity. 

Then bread grew dear, and good advice 

Could not be had for any price. 

Then " Woe is me !" " Oh, misery I" 
"What shrieks of lamentation ! 

And " Kyrie Eleison !" cried 

The pastors, and the flock replied, 
" Lord, save us from starvation !" 

" Oh, woe is me, poor Corydon ! 

My neck ! my neck ! I'm gone ! I'm gone I" 

Yet oft, when counsel, deed, and prayer 

Had all proved unavailing, 
When hope hung trembling on a hair, 
How oft has woman's wit been there, 

A refuge never- failing ! 
For woman's wit to conquer fraud 
In olden time was famed abroad. 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND RECITATION. 255 

A youthful dame, — praised be her name ! 

Last night had seen her plighted, — 
Whether in waking hour or dream, 
Conceived a rare and novel scheme, 

Which all the town delighted ; 
Which you, if you think otherwise, 
Have leave to laugh at and despise. 

At midnight hour, when culverin 

And gun and bomb were sleeping, 

Before the camp, with mournful mien, 

The loveliest embassy was seen 
All kneeling low and weeping. 

So sweetly, plaintively they prayed, 

But no reply save this was made : 

" The women have free leave to go, 
Each with her choicest treasure ; 

But let the knaves, their husbands, know 

That unto them the king will show 
The weight of his displeasure." 

With these sad terms the lovely train 
Stole weeping from the camp again. 

But when the morning gilt the sky, 
What happened ? Give attention. 

The city gates wide open fly, 

And all the wives came trudging by, 
Each bearing — need I mention ? — 

Her own dear husband on her back, 

All snugly seated in a sack ! 



256 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Full many a sprig of court, the joke 

Not relishing, protested, 
And urged the king ; but Conrad spoke : 
" A monarch's word must not be broke !" 

And here the matter rested. 
" Bravo !" he cried. " Ha ! ha ! bravo ! 
Our lady guessed it would be so." 

He pardoned all, and gave a ball 
That night at royal quarters. 
The fiddles squeaked, the trumpets blew, 
And up and down the dancers flew, 

Court sprigs with city daughters. 
The major's wife — oh, rarest sight ! — 
Danced with the shoemaker that night ! 

Ah, where is Weinsberg, sir, I pray ? 

'Tis sure a famous city : 
It must have cradled, in its day, 
Full many a maid of noble clay, 

And matrons wise and witty ; 
And if ever marriage should happen to me, 
A Weinsberg dame my wife shall be. 

Gottfried August Burger. 

LITTLE JOE. 

Tom Wise, a great, big, handsome fellow, with 
a heart of the same order, was standing at the 
corner talking to a friend. He held a cigar to 
his mouth with his left hand, and with his right 
had just struck a match against the lamp-post, 
when at — or rather under — his elbow a voice ex- 
claimed, cheerily, " Busted ag'in, Mas' Tom !" 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 257 

Tom threw a glance over his shoulder, and 
there stood " Little Joe," a small misshapen ne- 
gro, about fifteen years old, with crutches under 
his arms, and feet all twisted out of shape, his 
toes barely touching the ground as he hopped 
along. He had on an old straw hat with only a 
hint of brim. There must be some law of cohe- 
sive attraction between straw and wool, for Lit- 
tle Joe's cranium was large, while the hat was 
small and set back much nearer the nape of his 
neck than the crown of his head, yet held its 
place like a natural excrescence or a horrible 
bore. Joe had met with very few people mean 
enough to laugh at him; for, though he pos- 
sessed all the brightness and cheerfulness and 
pluck of deformed people generally, there was 
a wistful look about his eyes which his want of 
height and his position on crutches intensified 
(indeed, perhaps created), by keeping them up- 
turned while talking with any one taller than 
himself ; and this was generally the case, for 
there were no grown people so small as Little 
Joe. His shirt was torn and his pantaloons 
ragged, but to gild these faded glories he wore 
a swallow-tailed coat with brass buttons which 
some one had given him, whether from a sense of 
humor or a sentiment of charity let the gods de- 
cide. 

" Busted ag'in, Mas' Tom !" 

" What ' busted' you this time, Joe ?" asked 
Mr. Wise. 

" Lumber, Mas' Tom. I was in de lumber 



258 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

bizness las' week, buyin* ole shingles an' sellin' 
'em for kindlin' ; but my pardner he maked a 
run on de bank, — leastways on my breeches- 
pocket, — an' den runned away hisse'f. Ain't you 
gwine to sot me up ag'in, Mas' Tom ?" 

"What business are you going into this 
week?" 

" 'Feckshunerry," replied Joe, taking the quar- 
ter Mr. Wise handed him. " Dis'll do to buy de 
goods, but 'twon't rent de sto', Mas' Tom." 

" What store?" asked Mr. Wise. 

" Dat big sto' Hunt an' Manson is jes' moved 
outen. Mr. Manson say I may hab it for seb- 
ben hunderd dollars ef you'll go my skoorty." 

Tom laughed : " Well, Joe, I was thinking I 
wouldn't go security for anybody this week* 
Don't you think you can do business on a small- 
er scale?" 

Joe's countenance fell, and he suffered visibly, 
but a cheering thought presently struck him, 
and he exclaimed, disdainfully : " Anyhow, I ain't 
a-keerin' 'bout Hunt an' Manson's ole sto', — der 
ole sebben-hunderd-dollar sto' ! I can git a 
goods-box, and turn it upside down, an' stan' it 
up by de Cap'tol groun's, an' more folks'll pass 
'long an' buy goobers dan would come in dat ole 
sto' all de year. Dey ain't spitin' me /" 

As Joe limped off to invest his money, his 
poor little legs swinging and his swallow-tails 
flapping, Tom's friend asked who he was. 

"Belonged to us before the war," said Tom. 
" Poor little devil ! the good Lord and the birds 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 259 

of the air seem to take care of him. I set him up in 
business with twenty -five cents every week, and 
look after him a little in other ways. Sometimes 
he buys matches and newspapers and sells them 
again, sometimes he buys ginger-cakes and eats 
them all ; but he is invariably * busted/ as ho 
calls it, by Saturday night. — Joe ! o-oh, Joe !" 

Joe looked back, and, with perfect indifference 
to the fact that he was detaining Mr. Wise, an- 
swered that he would * be dar torectly," continu- 
ing his negotiations for an empty goods-box ly- 
ing at the door of a neighboring dry-goods store. 
" What you want, Mas' Tom ?" he asked, on his 
return. 

" Miss Mollie is going to be married week after 
next, Joe, and you may come up to the house if 
you like. I was afraid I might forget it." 

"Whoop you, sir! Thanky, Mas' Tom. I 
boun' to see Miss Mollie step off de carpit. But, 
Lord-a-mussy ! dem new niggers you all got 
ain't gwine to lemme in." 

" Come to the front door and ask for me. Cut 
out, now, and don't get busted this week, because 
I shall need all my money to buy a breastpin to 
wait on my sister in. — Come, John, let's regis- 
ter." 

Joe's glance followed Mr. Wise and his friend 
till they were out of sight : then he turned, and 
paused no more till he reached an out-of-the-way 
grocery-store, in the window of which were dis- 
played samples of fish, and soap, and calico, and 
kerosene lamps, and dreadful brass jewelry, 



260 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

among which was a frightful breastpin in the 
shape of a crescent set with red and green glass, 
and further ornamented by a chain of the most 
atrocious description conceivable. Before this 
thing of beauty, which to him had been a joy for 
weeks, Joe paused and lingered, and smote his 
little black breast and sighed the sigh of poverty. 
Then he went in. " What mout be de price o* 
dat gent's pin in de corner ob de winder ?" he 
inquired. 

" I don't see any gent in the corner of the win- 
dow," said the proprietor of the store. 

Joe took the mild pleasantry, and, inquiring, 
" What mout be de price o' de pin?" was told 
that it might be anything, — from nothing up, — 
but it could go for seventy-five cents. 

He stood again outside the window, looking 
sadly and reflecting at the attractive bijou, then 
seated himself on the curbstone, his crutches 
resting in the gutter, and thoughtfully smoothed 
between his finger and thumb the twenty-five 
cent note Mr. Wise had given him : " Ef I takes 
dis, an' de one Mas' Tom gwine to gimme nex' 
week, dat'll be fifty cents, but it won't be sev- 
enty-five : so I got to make a quarter on de two. 
Ef Miss Mollie knowed, I spec' she would wait 
anoder week to git married, an' den I wouldn't 
run no resk o' dese ; but I ain't gwine to tell her, 
cos I know she couldn't help tellin' Mas' Tom, 
an' I want to s'prise him. Mas' Tom is made 
me feel good a many a time : I want to make him 
feel good wunst. He don't nuwur come dis 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 201 

way, an' ain't seed dat pin, or lie would ha' had 
it 'fore now." 

Then Little Joe bestirred himself, and, obtain- 
ing the assistance of a friend, took his dry -goods 
box up to Capitol Square. There he turned it 
upside down, spread a newspaper over the top, 
and proceeded to display his wares. 

A pyramid of three apples stood in one corner ; 
a small stack of peppermint candy was its vis-a- 
vis ; a tiny glass of peanuts graced the third, and 
was confronted by a lemon that had seen life and 
was now more sere than yellow. But the crown- 
ing glory was the centre-piece, — an unhappy- 
looking pie, of visage pale and thin physique, yet 
how beautiful to Joe ! He stepped back on his 
crutches, turning his head from side to side as 
he surveyed the effect, took up a locust branch 
he had brought with him to brush away the flies, 
and, leaning against the iron railing, with calm 
dignity awaited coming events. 

His glance presently fell on the figure of a ne- 
gro boy, who stood gazing with longiug eyes on 
the delicacies of his table ; and it was with a 
strauge feeling of kinship that Little Joe contin- 
ued to regard the new-comer, for he too had 
been branded by misfortune. He appeared about 
Joe's age, and should have been taller, but his 
legs had been amputated nearly up to the knee, 
and as he stood on the pitiful stumps, supported 
by a short cane in one hand, his head was hardly 
as high as the iron railing. He had none of Joe's 
brightness, but looked ragged and dirty and hun- 



262 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

gry, and evidently had no Mas' Tom to help the 
good Lord and the birds of the air to take care of 
him. His skin was of a dull ashen hue, and the 
short wool which clung close to his scalp was 
sunburnt till it was red and crisp and formed a 
curious contrast to his black face. One arm was 
bare, only the ragged remains of a sleeve hang- 
ing over the shoulder, and it seemed no great 
misfortune that his legs had been shortened, for 
he had hardly pantaloons enough to cover what 
he had left. 

He looked at the pie, and Joe looked at him. 
Presently the latter inquired, seriously, " Whar 
yo'legs?" 

" Cut off," was the answer. 

"How come dey cut off?" 

" Feet was fros'-bit. Like ter kill me." 

" What yo' name ?" asked Joe. 

"Kiah." 

" "What were yo' ole mas' name ?" 

" Didn't have no ole mas'." 

" Was you a natchul free nigger ?" 

" Dunno what you mean," said Kiah. 

" Tore we was all sot free," explained little 
Joe. " Was you born wid a ole mas' an' a ole 
mis', or was you born free ? — jes' natchully free." 

"Free," said Kiah, thus placing himself, as 
every Southerner knows, under the ban of Joe's 
contempt. " Umph ! my Lor' ! Dat pie sholy do 
smell good !" 

" You look hongry," said Joe gravely. 

" I is," said Kiah, — " hongry as a dog !" 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 263 

Negroes are generous creatures, and Joe's mind 
was fully made up to give Kiah a piece of pie ; 
but before he signified this benevolent intention 
he rested his crutches under his shoulders and 
swung his misshapen feet almost in Kiah's face. 
He leered at him ; he grinned at him ; he stuck 
his chin in his face, and made a dart at him with 
the crown of his head. 

He stopped suddenly and grinned ferociously 
at Kiah. Kiah gazed stolidly back at Joe. Then 
Joe stepped to the table, took up a rusty old 
pocket-knife, and cutting out a piece of the pie, 
handed it to Kiah. Kiah bit off a point of the 
triangle with his eyes fixed- on Joe as if in doubt 
whether he would be allowed to proceed, but, 
finding that liberty was not resented, he eagerly 
devoured the remainder, drew his coat-sleeve 
across his mouth, and said, " Thanky." And thus 
their friendship commenced. 

[Joe and Kiah soon became the warmest of friends, and on 
the evening of the wedding the grateful little fellow surprised 
and touched his benefactor by the present of the breastpin. 
This Mr. Wise wore through the ceremony, in spite of all re- 
monstrance to the contrary.] 

When, however, as the bridal cortege passed 
through the hall, he saw Joe nudge a fellow- 
servant with his elbow and point out the pin, he 
felt repaid, though Miss Annan was holding her 
head very high indeed. 

The next morning little Joe came by the office : 
" What did de folks say 'bout yo' bres'pin, Mas' 
Tom ?" 



264 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" Say ? Why, they did not know what to 
say, Joe. They* could not take their eyes off 
me. That pin knocked the black out of every- 
thing there. The bridegroom couldn't hold a 
candle to me," said Mr. "Wise ; and Joe laughed 
aloud with delight. " Did they give you your 
supper ?" 

" Did dat, Mas' Tom ; an' I tuk home a snow- 
ball an' a orange to Kiah," said little Joe. 

Late on the evening of the same day Mr. Wise 
was about leaving his office, when Little Joe's 
crutches sounded in the door-way, and Little Joe 
himself appeared, sobbing bitterly, tears stream- 
ing down his face : " Oh, Lordy, Mas' Tom ! oh, 
Lordy !" 

" What is the matter, Joe ?!' 

" Oh, Lordy, Mas' Tom ! Kiah's done dead !" 

" Kiah ! Is it possible ? What was the mat- 
ter ?" asked Mr. Wise. 

"Oh, Lordy! oh, Lordy!" sobbed Little Joe. 
"Me an' him went down to de creek, an' was 
playin' babtizin' an' I'd done babtized Kiah, an' 
— oh, Lordy ! Lordy ! — an' Kiah was jes' gwine 
to babtize me, an' he stepped out too fur, an' his 
legs was so short he lost his holt on me an' 
drownded ; an' I couldn't ketch him, 'cos I 
couldn't stan' up widout nothin' to hold on to. 
Oh, Lordy ! I wish I nuvvur had ha' heerd o' 
babtizin' ! I couldn't git him out, an' I jes' kep' 
on a-hollerin', but nobody didn't come till Kiah 
was done drownded." 

" I am sorry for you, Joe ; I wish I had been 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 265 

there. But, as far as Kiali is concerned, he is 
better off than he was before," said Mr. Wise. 

" No, he ain't, Mas' Tom," said Joe, stoutly ; 
" leas'ways, Kiah didn't think so hisse'f, 'cos ef 
he had a-wanted to die he could ha' done it long 
an' merry ago. I don't b'leeve in no sech fool- 
talk as dead folks bein' better off dan dey was 
befo'." 

Tom was silent, and Little Joe went on with re- 
newed tears : " I come up to ax you to gimme a 
clean shirt an' a par o' draw's to put on Kiah. 
You needn't gimme no socks, 'cos he ain't got no 
feet. Oh, Lordy ! oh, Lord !" sobbed Little Joe : 
" ef me an' Kiah had jes' had feet like some folks, 
Kiah wouldn't ha' been drownded !" 

" Take this up to the house," said Mr. Wise, 
handing him a note, " and Miss Mollie will give 
you whatever you want." 

" Thanky, sir," said Joe. " I know you ain't 
got no coffin handy, but you can gimme de money 
an' I can git one. I don't reckon it will take 
much, 'cos Kiah warn't big." 

Then Mr. Wise wrote a note for the under- 
taker, and directed Joe what to do with it. 

The next day was cold and dark and mist} T , 
and the pauper's hearse that conveyed Kiah to 
the graveyard was driven so fast that poor Little 
Joe, the only mourner, could hardly keep up as 
he hopped along behind it on his crutches. 

The blast grew keener and the mist heavier, 
and before Kiah was buried out of sight, the rain 
was falling in torrents that drenched the poor lit- 



266 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

tie cripple sobbing beside the grave, and the 
driver of the hearse, a good-hearted Irishman, 
said to him, " In wid ye, or get up here by me, 
an' ye're a mind to. I'll take ye back." 

But Joe shook his head, and prepared to hop 
back as he had hopped out. " Thanky, sir," 
said he, " but I'd ruther walk. I feels like I 
would be gittin' a ride out o' Kiah's funeral." 

The wind blew open his buttonless shirt, and 
the rain beat heavily on his loyal little breast, 
but he struggled against the storm, and paused 
only once on his way home. That was beside 
the goods-box that he and Kiah had had for a 
stall. Now it was drenched with rain and the 
sides bespattered with mud, and the newspaper 
that had served for a cloth had blown over one 
corner- and was soaked and torn, but clung to its 
old companion, though the wind tried to tear it 
away and the rain to beat it down. Little Joe 
stood a minute beside it, and cried harder than 
ever. 

For several days Little Joe drooped and shiv- 
ered and refused to eat, and at length he grew ill 
and sent for Mr. Wise ; but Mr. Wise was out of 
town, and did not return for a week ; and though, 
when he got home, the first thing he did was to 
visit Little Joe, he came too late, for Joe would 
never again rise from the straw pallet on which 
he lay, nor use the crutches that now stood idle 
in the corner. 

His eyes brightened and he smiled faintly as 
Tom entered like a breath of fresh air, — so strong 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 267 

and fresh and vigorous that it made one feel 
better only to be near him. 

" Why, Joe ! how is this ?" 

The little cripple paused to gather up his 
strength ; then he said, " Busted ag'in, Mas' 
Tom, and you can't nuvvur sot me up no mo'." 

"Oh, stuff! Dr. North can if I can't. Why 
didn't you send for him when you found I was 
away ?" 

" I dunno, sir: I nuvvur thought 'bout it." 

Turning to the woman with whom Joe lived, 
"And why didn't you do it?" said Tom angrily. 

" I didn't know Joe was so sick," said she. 
" 'Tain't no use sen'in' for no doctor now. I jes' 
been tellin' Joe he better not put off makin' 
peace wid de Lord." 

"I don't reckon de Lord is mad wid me, 
Nancy. What is I done to Him ? I didn't use 
to cuss, an' I didn't play marbles on Sunday, 'cos 
I couldn't play 'em no time, like de boys dat had 
feet." 

" Ef you don't take keer you'll be too late, 
like Kiah. I ain't a-sayin' whar Kiah is now, — 
'tain't for me to jedge," said Nancy, — " but you 
better be a-tryin' to open de gate o' Paradise." 

Piping the words out slowly and painfully, 
Little Joe replied, " I don't b'leeve I keer 'bout 
goin' 'less Kiah can git in too ; but I spec' he's 
dar, 'cos I don't see what de good Lord could ha' 
had ag'in' him. He oughtn't to thought hard o' 
nothin Kiah done, 'cos he warn't nuvvur nothin' 
but a free nigger, an' didn't hav no ole mas' to 



268 CORBEGT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

pattern by. Maybe He'll let us bofe in. I know 
Kiah's waitin' for me somewhar, but I dunno 
what to say to Him. You ax Him, Mas' Tom." 

He spoke more feebly, and his eyes were get- 
ting dull, but the old instinct of servitude re- 
mained, and he added, " Ain't you got nothin' to 
spread on de flo', Nancy, so Mas' Tom won't git 
his knees dirty ?" " 

Immediately and reverently Tom knelt on the 
clay floor, and, as nearly as he remembered it, 
repeated the Lord's Prayer. 

" Thanky, Mas' Tom," said Little Joe feebly. 
" What was dat — ole mis' — used to — sing ? ' Oh, 
Lamb o' — God — I come — I — ' " The words ceased, 
and the eyes remained half closed, the pupils 
fixed. 

Little Joe was dead. 
Jennie Woodville, in "Lippincott's Magazine." 

THE MERCHANT AND THE BOOK-AGENT. 

A book-agent importuned James Watson, a 
rich merchant living a few miles out of the city, 
until he bought a book, — the " Early Christian 
Martyrs." Mr. Watson didn't want the book, 
but he bought it to get rid of the agent ; then, 
taking it under his arm, he started for the train 
which takes him to his ofiice in the city. 

Mr. Watson hadn't been gone long before Mrs. 
Watson came home from a neighbor's. The 
book-agent saw her, and went in and persuaded 
the wife to buy a copy of the book. She was 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 269 

ignorant of the fact that her husband had bought 
the same book in the morning. When Mr. Wat- 
son came back in the evening, he met his wife 
with a cheery smile as he said, " Well, my dear, 
how have you enjoyed yourself to-day ? Well, 
I hope?" 

" Oh, yes ! had an early caller this morning." 

"Ah, and who was she ?" 

" It wasn't a * she ' at all ; it was a gentleman, 
a book-agent." 

"A what?" 

" A book-agent ; and to get rid of his impor- 
tuning I bought his book, — the ' Early Christian 
Martyrs.' See, here it is," she exclaimed, ad- 
vancing towards her husband. 

" I don't want to see it," said Watson, frown- 
ing terribly. 

" Why, husband ?" asked his wife. 

" Because that rascally book-agent sold me 
the same book this morning. Now we've got 
two copies of the same book, — two copies of the 
' Early Christian Martyrs,' and — " 

" But, husband, we can — " 

"No, we can't, either!" interrupted Mr. Wat- 
son. "The man is off on the train before this. 
Confound it ! I could kill the fellow. I—" 

" Why, there he goes to the depot now," said 
Mrs. Watson, pointing out of the window at the 
retreating form of the book-agent making for the 
train. 

"But it's too late to catch him, and I'm not 
dressed. I've taken off my boots, and — " 



270 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Just then Mr. Stevens, a neighbor of Mr. Wat- 
son, drove by, when Mr. Watson pounded on 
the window-pane in a frantic manner, almost 
frightening the horse. 

" Here, Stevens !" he shouted, "you're hitched 
up ! Won't you run your horse down to the 
train and hold that book-agent till I come? 
Run ! Catch 'im now !" 

" All right," said Mr. Stevens, whipping up his 
horse and tearing down the road. 

Mr. Stevens reached the train just as the con- 
ductor shouted, " All aboard !" 

" Book-agent !" he yelled, as the book-agent 
stepped on the train. " Book-agent ! hold on ! 
Mr. Watson wants to see you." 

"Watson? Watson wants to see me?" re- 
peated the seemingly puzzled book-agent. " Oh, 
I know what he wants : he wants to buy one of 
my books*; but I can't miss the train to sell it 
to him." 

" If that is all he wants, I can pay for it and 
take it back to him. How much is it ?" 

" Two dollars, for the ' Early Christian Mar- 
tyrs' " said the book-agent, as he reached for the 
money and passed the book out the car- window. 

Just then Mr. Watson arrived, puffing and 
blowing, in his shirt-sleeves. As he saw the 
train pull out he was too full for utterance. 

"Well, I got it for you," said Stevens, — "just 
got it, and that's all." 

"Got what?" yelled Watson. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 271 

"Why, I got the book,— ' Early Christian 
Martyrs,' — and paid — " 

" By — the — great — guns !" moaned "Watson, as 
he placed his hand to his brow and swooned right 
in the middle of the street. 

BRER RABBIT AND THE TAR-BABY. 

One evening, recently, the lady whom Uncle 
Remus calls " Miss Sally " missed her little 
seven-year-old. Making search for him through 
the house and through the yard, she heard the 
sound of voices in the old man's cabin, and, look- 
ing through the window, saw the child sitting by 
Uncle Remus. His head rested against the old 
man's arm, and he was gazing with an expression 
of the most intense interest into the rough, 
weather-beaten face that beamed so kindly upon 
him. This is what " Miss Sally " heard : 

" Bimeby, one day, arter Brer Fox bin doin' all 
dat he could fer ter ketch Brer Rabbit, en Brer 
Rabbit bin doin' all he could fer ter keep *im 
fum it, Brer Fox say to hisse'f dat he'd put up a 
game on Brer Rabbit, en he ain't mo'n got de 
wuds outen his mouf twel Brer Rabbit come a- 
lopin' up de big road, lookin' des ez plump en ez 
fat en ez sassy ez a Moggin hoss in a barley- 
patch. 

" ' Hoi' on dar, Brer Rabbit,' sez Brer Fox, 
sezee. 

" ' I ain't got time, Brer Fox,' sez Brer Rabbit, 
sezee, sorter mendin' his licks. 



272 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

"■* I wanter have some confab wid you, Brer 
Babbit,' sez Brer Fox, sezee. 

"'All right, Brer Fox, but you better holler 
fum whar you stan' : I'm monstus full er fleas 
dis mawnin',' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. 

" ' I seed Brer B'ar yistiddy,' sez Brer Fox, 
sezee, ' en he sorter raked me over de coals kase 
you en me ain't make frens en live naberly, en I 
told him dat I'd see you.' 

" Den Brer Rabbit scratch one year wid his off 
hine-foot sorter jub'usly, en den he ups en sez, 
sezee, — 

" ' All a-settin', Brer Fox. S'posen you drap 
roun' ter-morrer en take dinner wid me. We 
ain't got no great doin's at our house, but I speck 
de ole 'oman en de chilluns kin sort o' scramble 
roun' en git up sump'n fer ter stay yo' stum- 
muck.' 

" ' I'm 'gree'ble, Brer Rabbit,' sez Brer Fox, 
sezee. 

"'Den I'll 'pen' on you,' says Brer Rabbit, 
sezee. 

" Nex' day, Mr. Rabbit an' Miss Rabbit got up 
soon, 'fo' day, en raided on a gyarden like Miss 
Sally's out dar, en got some cabbiges, en some 
roas'n-years, en some sparrergrass, en dey fix up 
a smashin' dinner. Bimeby one er cle little Rab- 
bits, playin' out in de back-yard, come runnin' 
in hollerin', ' Oh, ma ! oh, ma ! I seed Mr. Fox 
a-comin' !' En den Brer Rabbit he tuck de chil- 
luns by der years en make um set down, and 
den him en Miss Rabbit sorter dally roun' waitin' 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND RECITATION. 273 

for Brer Fox. En dey keep on waitin', but no 
Brer Fox ain't come. Atter 'while Brer Rabbit 
goes to de do', easy like, en peep out, en dar, 
stickin' out fum behime de cornder, wuz de tip- 
een' er Brer Fox's tail. Den Brer Babbit shot 
de do' en sot down, en put his paws behime his 
years, en begin fer to sing : 

" 'De place wharbouts you spill de grease, 
Right dar youer boun' ter slide, 
An' whar you fine a bunch er ha'r, 
You'll sholy fine de hide !' 

"Nex' day Brer Fox sont word by Mr. Mink en 
skuze hisse'f kase he wuz too sick fer ter come, 
en he ax Brer Rabbit fer ter come en take dinner 
wid him, en Brer Rabbit say he wuz 'gree'ble. 

" Bimeby, w'en de shadders wuz at der shortes', 
Brer Rabbit he sorter brush up en santer down 
ter Brer Fox's house, en w'en he got dar he yer 
somebody groanin', en he look in de do', en dar 
he see Brer Fox settin' up in a rockin'-cheer all 
wrop up wid flannil, en he look mighty weak. 
Brer Rabbit look all 'roun', he did, but he ain't 
see no dinner. De dish-pan wuz settin' on de 
table, en close by wuz a kyarvin'-knife. 

" ' Look like you gwineter have chicken fer din- 
ner, Brer Fox,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. 

" ' Yes, Brer Rabbit, deyer nice en fresh en 
tender,' says Brer Fox, sezee. 

" Den Brer Rabbit sorter pull his mustarsh, en 
say, ' You ain't got no' calamus-root, is you, Brer 
Fox? I done got so now dat I can't eat no 
chicken 'ceppin' she's seasoned up wid calamus- 



274 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

root.' En wid dat Brer Eabbit lipt out er de do' 
and dodge 'mong de bushes, en sot dar watchin' 
fer Brer Fox ; en he ain't watch long, nudder, 
kase Brer Fox flung off de flannil en crope out er 
de house en got whar he could close in on Brer 
Babbit, en bimeby Brer Babbit holler out, * Oh, 
Brer Fox ! I'll des put yo' calamus-root out yer 
on dis yer stump. Better come git it while hit's 
fresh.' And wid dat Brer Babbit gallop off 
home. En Brer Fox ain't never kotch 'im yit, en 
w'at's mo', honey, he ain't gwineter." 

" Didn't the fox never catch the rabbit, Uncle 
Bemus ?" asked the little boy the next evening. 

"He come mighty nigh it, honey, sho's you 
bawn, — Brer Fox did. One day atter Brer Bab- 
bit fool 'im wid dat calamus-root, Brer Fox went 
ter wuk en got 'im some tar, en mix it wid some 
turkentime, en fix up a contrapshun what he call 
a Tar-Baby, en he tuck dish yer Tar-Baby en he 
sot 'er in de big road, en den he lay off in de 
bushes fer ter see w'at de news wuz gwineter be. 
En he didn't hatter wait long, nudder, kase bime- 
by here come Brer Babbit pacin' down de road, 
— Hppity-clippity, clippity-lippity, — des ez sassy 
ez a jay-bird. Brer Fox he lay low. Brer Bab- 
bit come prancin' 'long twel he spy de Tar-Baby, 
en den he fotch up on his behime legs like he 
was 'stonished. De Tar-Baby she sot dar, she 
did, en Brer Fox he lay low. 

"'Mawnin'!' sez Brer Babbit, sezee; 'nice 
wedder dis mawnin',' sezee. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 275 

" Tar-Baby ain't sayin' nuthin', en Brer Fox he 
lay low. 

" ' How duz yo' sym'tums seem ter segashuate ?" 
sez Brer Babbit, sezee. 

" Brer Fox lie wink his eye slow, en lay low, 
en de Tar-Baby she ain't sayin' nuthin*. 

" * How you come on, den ? Is you deaf ?' sez 
Brer Babbit, sezee. ' Kase if you is I kin holler 
louder,' sezee. 

" Tar-Baby lay still, en Brer Fox he lay low. 

"'Youer stuck up, dat's w'at you is,' says 
Brer Babbit, sezee, ' en I'm gwineter kyore you, 
dat's w'at I'm a-gwineter do,' sezee. 

" Brer Fox he sorter chuckle in his stummuck, 
he did, but Tar-Baby ain't sayin' nuthin'. 

" ' I'm gwineter larn you howter talk ter 'spect- 
tuble fokes ef hit's de las' ack,' sez Brer Rabbit, 
sezee. ' Ef you don't take off dat hat en tell me 
howdy, I'm gwineter bus' you wide open,' sezee. 

"Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox he lay low. 

"Brer Rabbit keep on axin' 'im, en de Tar- 
Baby she keep on sayin' nuthin', twel present'y 
Brer Rabbit draw back wid his fis', he did, en 
blip he tuck er side er de head. Right dar's 
whar he broke his merlasses-jug. His fis' stuck, 
en he can't pull loose. De tar hilt him. But 
Tar-Baby she stay still, en Brer Fox he lay low. 

" ' Ef you don't lemme loose, I'll knock you 
ag'in,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee ; en wid dat he 
fotch 'er a wipe wid de udder han', en dat stuck. 
Tar-Baby she ain't sayin' nuthin', en Brer Fox he 
lay low. 



276 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

"'Tu'n me loose 'fo' I kick de natal stuffin' 
outen you,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee ; but de Tar- 
Baby she ain't sayin' nutliin'. She des hilt on, 
en den Brer Rabbit lose de use er his feet in de 
same way. Brer Fox he lay low. Den Brer 
Rabbit squall out dat ef de Tar-Baby don't tu'n 
'im loose he butt 'er crank-sided. En den he 
butted, en his head got stuck. Den Brer Fox he 
santered fort', lookin' des ez innercent ez wunner 
yo' mammy's mockin'-birds. 

" ' Howdy, Brer Rabbit ? ' sez Brer Fox, sezee. 
' You look sorter stuck up dis mawnin',' sezee ; 
en den he rolled on de groun', en laft en laf t twel 
he couldn't laff no mo'. 'I speck you'll take 
dinner wid me dis time, Brer Rabbit. 1 done 
laid in some calamus-root, en I ain't gwineter 
take no skuse,' sez Brer Fox, sezee." 

Here Uncle Remus paused, and drew a two- 
pound yam out of the ashes. 

" Did the fox eat the rabbit? 14 asked the little 
boy to whom the story had been told. 

" Dat's all de fur de tale goes," replied the old 
man. "He mout, en den ag'in he moutent. 
Some say Jedge B'ar come 'long en loosed 'im ; 
some say he didn't. I hear Miss Sally callin'. 
You better run 'long." . . . 

" Uncle Remus," said the little boy one even- 
ing, when he had found the old man with little 
or nothing to do, " did the fox kill and eat the 
rabbit when he caught him with the Tar-Baby?" 

"Law, honey, ain't I tell you 'bout dat?" re- 
plied the old darky, chuckling slyly. " I 'clar ter 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 277 

grashus I ought er tole you dat ; hut ole man Nod 
wuz ridin' on my eyelids twel a lettle mo'ii I'd 'a* 
dis'member'd my own name, en den on to dat here 
come yo' mammy hollerin' atter you. 

" Wat I tell you w'en I fus' begin ? I tole you 
Brer Babbit wuz a monstus soon beas'; leas' ways 
dat's w'at I laid out fer ter tell you. Well, den, 
honey, don't you go en make no udder kalkala- 
shuns, kase in dem days Brer Babbit en his 
family wuz at de head er de gang w'en enny 
racket wuz on ban', en dar dey stayed. To' you 
begins fer ter wipe yo' eyes 'bout Brer Babbit, 
you wait en see whar'bouts Brer Babbit gwineter 
fetch up at. But dat's needer yer ner dar. 

" Wen Brer Fox fine Brer Babbit mixt up wid 
de Tar-Baby, he feel mighty good, en he roll on 
de groun' en laff. Bimeby he up V say, sezee, — 

" ' Well, I speck I got you dis time, Brer Bab- 
bit,' sezee ; ' maybe I ain't, but I speck I is. 
You been runnin' roun' here sassin' atter me a 
mighty long time, but I speck you done come ter 
de een' er de row. You bin cuttin' up yo' capers 
en bouncin' roun' in dis naberhood ontwel you 
come ter b'leeve yo'se'f de boss er de whole gang. 
En den youer allers some'rs whar you got no 
bizness,' sez Brer Fox, sezee. 'Who ax you fer 
ter come en strike up a 'quaintence wid dish yer 
Tar-Baby ? En who stuck you up dar whar you 
is ? Nobody in de roun' worril. You des tuck 
en jam yo'se'f on dat Tar-Baby widout waitin' 
fer enny invite,' sez Brer Fox, sezee, ' en dar you 
is, en dar you'll stay twel I fixes up a bresh-pile 



278 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

and fires her up, kase I'm gwineter bobbycue you 
dis day sho,' sez Brer Fox, sezee. 

" Den Brer Babbit talk mighty 'umble. 

" ' I don't keer w'at you do wid me, Brer Fox,' 
sezee, * so you don't fling me in dat brier-patch. 
Boas' me, Brer Fox,' sezee, * but don't fling me in 
dat brier-patch,' sezee. 

" ' Hit's so much trouble fer ter kindle a fire,' 
sez Brer Fox, sezee, ■ dat I speck I'll hatter hang 
you,' sezee. 

" ' Hang me des ez high ez you please, Brer 
Fox," sez Brer Babbit, sezee, 'but do fer de 
Lord's sake don't fling me in dat brier-patch,' 
sezee. 

" ' I ain't got no string,' sez Brer Fox, sezee, 
'en now I speck I'll hatter drown you,' sezee. 

" 'Drown me ez deep ez you please, Brer Fox,' 
sez Brer Babbit, sezee, ■ but do don't fling me in 
dat brier-patch,' sezee. 

" ' Dey ain't no water nigh,' sez Brer Fox, sezee, 
' en now I speck I'll hatter skin you,' sezee. 

" * Skin me, Brer Fox,' sez Brer Babbit, sezee, 
■ snatch out my eyeballs, far out my years by de 
roots, en cut off my legs,' sezee, ■ but do please, 
Brer Fox, don't fling me in dat brier-patch,' 
sezee. 

" Co'se Brer Fox wanter hurt Brer Babbit bad 
ez he kin, so he cotch him by de behime legs en 
slung 'im right in de middle er de brier-patch. 
Dar wuz a considarbul flutter whar Brer Babbit 
struck de bushes, en Brer Fox sorter hang roun' 
fer ter see what wuz gwineter happen. Bimeby 



8ELEC1I0NS FOR READING AND RECITATION 279 

he hear somebody call 'im, en way up de hill he 
see Brer Babbit settin' cross-legged on a chinka- 
pin log koamin' de pitch outen his ha'r wid 
a chip. Den Brer Fox know dat he bin swop 
off mighty bad. Brer Kabbit wuz bleedzed 
fer ter fling back some er his sass, en he holler 
out, — 

" ■ Bred en bawn in a brier-patch, Brer 
Fox, — bred en bawn in a brier-patch ! ' en wid 
dat he skip out des ez lively ez a cricket in de 
embers." 

Joel Chandler Harris. 



A BATTLE OF WORDS. 

"When Daniel O'Connell was yet a very young 
man, his talent for vituperative language was so 
great that he was deemed matchless as a ncold. 
There lived in Dublin a certain woman, Biddy 
Moriarty by name, who kept a huckster's stall 
on one of the quays nearly opposite the Four 
Courts. She was a first-class virago, — formidable 
with both fist and tongue, — so that her voluble 
imputation had become almost proverbial in the 
country round about. 

Some of O'Connell's friends thought that he 
could defeat her with her own weapons, while 
others ridiculed the idea. The Kerry barrister 
could not stand this, so he backed himself for a 
match. Bets were offered, and taken, and it was 
decided that the matter should be settled at once. 
So, proceeding to the huckster's stall with a few 



280 COBRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

friends, O'Connell commenced his attack on the 
old lady : 

"What is the price of this walking-stick, Mrs. 
What's-your-name ?" 

" Moriarty, sir, is my name, and a good one it 
is ; and what have you to say ag'in' it ? and one 
and sixpence's the price of the stick. Troth it's 
cheajD as dirt, so it is." 

" One and sixpence for a vv r alking-stick ! whew ! 
Why, you are no better than an impostor to ask 
eighteenpence for what cost you twopence." 

" Twopence your grandmother !" rejDlied Mrs. 
Biddy. " Do you mane to say that it's chating 
the people I am ? Impostor, indeed !" 

" Ay, impostor ; and it's that I call you to your 
teeth," rejoined O'Connell. 

" Come, cut your stick, you cantankerous jack- 
anapes." 

"Keep a civil tongue in your head, you old 
diagonal," cried O'Connell calmly. 

" Stop your jaw, you pug-nosed badger, or by 
this and that," cried Mrs. Moriarty, " I'll make 
you go quicker nor you came." 

" Don't be in a passion, my old radius : anger 
will only wrinkle your beauty." 

"By the hokey, if you say another word of 
impudence, I'll tan your dirty hide, you bastel.y 
common scrub ; and sorry I'd be to soil my fists 
upon your carcass." 

" Whew, boys ! what a passion old Biddy is in ! 
I protest, as I am a gentleman — " 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND 11ECITATI0N 281 

" Jintleman ! jintleinan ! the likes of you a jin- 
tleman ! Wisha, by gor, that bangs Banagar! 
Why, you potato-faced pippinsneezer, when did ;l 
Madagascar monkey like you pick up enough of 
common Christian decency to hide your Kerry 
brogue?" 

" Easy now, — easy now," cried O'Connell, with 
imperturbable good humor ; " don't choke your- 
self with fine language, you old whiskey-drinking 
parallelogram." 

" What's that you call me, you murderin' vil- 
lain ?" roared Mrs. Moriarty, stung into fury. 

" I call you," answered O'Connell, " a parallel- 
ogram ; and a Dublin judge and jury will say it's 
no libel to call you so." 

" Oh, tare-an-ouns ! oh, holy Biddy ! that an 
honest woman like me should be called a parry - 
bellygrum.to her face ! I'm none of your parry- 
bellygrums, you rascally gallows-bird, you cow- 
ardly, sneaking, plate-lickin' bliggard !" 

" Oh, not you, indeed !" retorted O'Connell. 
" Why, I suppose you'll deny that you keep a 
hypothenuse in your house." 

"It's a lie for you, you bastely robber! I 
never had such a thing in my house, you swin- 
dling thief !" 

" Why, sure all of your neighbors know very 
well that you keep not only a hypothenuse, but 
that you have two diameters locked up in your 
garret, and that you go out to walk with them 
every Sunday, you heartless old heptagon." 



282 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" Oh, hear that, ye saints in glory ! Oh, there's 
bad language from a fellow that wants to pass 
for a jintleman! May the divil fly away with 
you, you wicher from Munster, and make celery- 
sauce of your rotten limbs, you mealy-mouthed 
bag of wind !" 

" Ah, you can't deny the charge, you miserable 
sub-multiple of a duplicate ratio." 

" Go rinse your mouth in the Liffey, you nasty 
tickle-pitcher; after all the bad words you are 
speakin' it ought to be filthier than your face, 
you dirty chicken of Beelzebub !" 

" Einse your own mouth, you wicked-minded 
polygon ! — to the deuce I pitch you, you bluster- 
ing intersection of a superficies !" 

"You saucy tinker's apprentice, if you don't 
cease your jaw, I'll — " But here she gasped 
for breath, unable to hawk up any more words, 
for the last volley of O'Connell had nearly 
knocked the wind out of her. 

" While I have a tongue I'll abuse you, you 
most inimitable periphery. Look at her, boys ! 
there she stands, — a convicted perpendicular in 
petticoats. There's contamination in her circum- 
ference, and she trembles with guilt down to the 
extremities of her corollaries. Ah ! you're found 
out, you rectilinear-antecedent and equiangular 
old hag ! 'Tis with you the devil will fly away, 
you porter-swiping similitude of the bisection of 
a vortex!" 

Overwhelmed with this torrent of language, 
Mrs. Moriarty was silenced. Catching up a 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 283 

saucepan, she was aiming at O'Connell's head 
when he very prudently made a timely retreat. 

" You have won the wager, O'Connell : here's 
your bet," cried the gentleman who had proposed 
the contest. 

Richard R. Madden. 

SAM WELLER'S VALENTINE. 

" Wot's that you're a doin' of? — pursuit of 
knowledge under difficulties ? — eh, Sammy ?" 

" I've done now," said Sam, with slight embar- 
rassment. " I've been a-writin'." 

" So I see," replied Mr. Weller. " Not to any 
young 'ooman, I hope, Sammy 8" 

" Why, it's no use a-sayin' it ain't," replied Sam. 
" It's a walentine." 

" A what?" exclaimed Mr. Weller, apparently 
horror-stricken by the word. 

" A walentine," replied Sam. 

" Samivel, Samivel !" said Mr. Weller, in re- 
proachful accents, " I didn't think you'd ha' done 
it. Arter the warnin' you've had o' your father's 
wicious perpensities, arter all I've said to you 
upon this here wery subject, arter actiwally see- 
in' and bein' in the company o' your own mother- 
in-law, vich I should ha' thought was a moral 
lesson as no man could ever ha' forgotten to his 
dyin' day ! I didn't think you'd ha' done it, Sam- 
my ! I didn't think you'd ha' done it." These re- 
flections were too much for the good old man. 
He raised Sam's tumbler to his lips and drank 
off its contents. 



284 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" Wot's the matter now ?" said Sam. 

" Never mind, Sammy," replied Mr. Weller : 
"it'll be a wery agonizin' trial to me at my time 
of life, but I'm pretty tough, that's vun consola- 
tion, as the wery old turkey remarked ven the 
farmer said he was afeerd he should be obliged 
to kill hiin for the London market." 

" Wot'll be a trial?" inquired Sam. 

" To see you married, Sammy, — to see you a 
deluded wictim, and thinkin' in your innocence 
that it's all wery capital," replied Mr. Weller. 
" It's a dreadful trial to a father's feelin's, that 
'ere, Sammy." 

"Nonsense!" said Sam. "I ain't a-goin' to 
get married, don't you fret yourself about that : 
I know you're a judge o' these things. Order 
in your pipe, and I'll read you the letter — 
there." 

We cannot distinctly say whether it was the 
prospect of the pipe, or the consolatory reflection 
that a fatal disposition to get married ran in the 
family and couldn't be helped, which calmed 
Mr. Weller's feelings and caused his grief to 
subside. We should be rather disposed to say 
that the result was attained by combining the 
two sources of consolation, for he repeated the 
second in a low tone very frequently, ringing 
the bell, meantime, to order in the first. He 
then divested himself of his upper coat, and, 
lighting the pipe and placing himself in front of 
the fire with his back towards it, so that he could 
feel its full heat and recline against the mantel- 



SELECTIONS FOli HEADING AND 11ECITATI0N 285 

piece at the same time, turned towards Bam, 
and, with a countenance greatly mollified by 
the softening influence of tobacco, requested Lim 
to " fire away." 

Sam dipped his pen into the ink to be ready 
for any corrections, and began with a very theat- 
rical air : 

"Lovely—" 

" Stop," said Mr. Weller, ringing the bell. " A 
double glass o' the invariable, my dear." 

"Very well, sir," replied the girl, who with 
great quickness appeared, vanished, returned, and 
disappeared. 

" They seem to know your ways here," observed 
Sam. 

" Yes," replied the father : " I've been here be- 
fore in my time. Go on, Sammy." 

" * Lovely creetur,' " repeated Sam. 

" 'Tain't in poetry, is it?" interposed the 
father. 

" No, no," replied Sam. 

" Wery glad to hear it," said Mr. Weller. " Poe- 
try's unnat'ral : no man ever talked in poetry, 
'cept a beadle on boxin'-day, or Warren's black- 
in', or Eowland'soil, or some o' them low fellows. 
Never you let yourself down to talk poetry, my 
boy. Begin again, Sammy." 

Mr. Weller resumed his pipe with critical so- 
lemnity, and Sam once more commenced, and 
read as follows : 

" 'Lovely creetur i feel myself ad... ' " 



286 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" That ain't proper," said Mr. Weller, taking 
his pipe from his mouth. 

" No ; it ain't that," observed Sam, holding the 
letter up to the light ; " it's ' shamed :' there's a 
blot there. * I feel myself ashamed — ' " 

" Wery good," said Mr. Weller. " Go on." 

" ' Feel myself ashamed and completely cir — ' 
I forget wot this here word is," said Sam, scratch- 
ing his head with the pen, in vain attempts to re- 
member. 

"Why don't you look at it, then?" inquired 
Mr. Weller. 

" So I am a-lookin' at it," replied Sam, " but 
there's another blot. Here's a ' c,' and a ' i,' and 
a < d.' " 

" Circumwented, p'r'aps," suggested Mr. Wel- 
ler. 

" No, it ain't that," said Sam : " ' circumscribed,' 
that's it." 

" That ain't as good a word as circumwented,' 
Sammy," said Mr. Weller gravely. 

"Think not?" said Sam. 

" Nothin' like it," replied his father. 

" But don't you think it means more ?" inquired 
Sam. 

" Veil, p'r'aps it is a more tenderer word," 
said Mr. Weller, after a few moments' reflection. 
" Go on, Sammy." 

" ' Feel myself ashamed and completely cir- 
cumscribed in a dressin' of you, for you are a 
nice gal, and nothin' but it.' " 

"That's a wery pretty sentiment," said the 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 28 1 

elder Mr. Weller, removing Lis pipe to make way 
for the remark. 

11 Yes, I think it is rayther good," observed 
Sam, highly flattered. 

" Wot I like in that 'ere style of writinV' said 
the elder Mr. Weller, " is, that there ain't no 
callin' names in it, — no Wenuses, nor nothin' o' 
that kind. Wot's the good o' callin' a young 
'ooman a Wenus or a angel, Sammy?" 

"Ah! what, indeed?" replied Sam. 

11 You might jist as veil call her a griffin, or a 
unicorn, or a king's arms, at once, which is wery 
veil known to be a col-lection o' fabulous ani- 
mals," added Mr. Weller. 

" Just as well," replied Sam. 

" Drive on, Sammy," said Mr. Weller. 

Sam complied with the request, and proceeded 
as follows, his father continuing to smoke, with a 
mixed expression of wisdom and complacency 
which was particularly edifying. 

" ■ Afore I see you I thought all women was 
alike.' " 

" So they are," observed the elder Mr. Weller 
parenthetically. 

" ' But now/ "continued Sam, " ' now I find what 
a reg'lar soft-headed, ink-red'lous turnip I must 
ha' been, for there ain't nobody like you, though 
I like you better than nothin' at all.' I thought 
it best to make that rayther strong," said Sam, 
looking up. 

Mr. Weller nodded approvingly, and Sam re- 
sumed : 



288 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" ' So I take the privilidge of the day, Mary, 
my dear, — as the gen'lem'n in difficulties did ven 
he valked out of a Sunday, — to tell you that the 
first and only time I see you your likeness was 
took on my heart in much quicker time and 
brighter colors than ever a likeness was took by 
the profeel-macheen, (which p'r'aps you may have 
heerd on, Mary, my dear,) altho' it does finish a 
portrait and put the frame and glass on complete 
with a hook at the end to hang it up by and all 
in two minutes and a quarter.' " 

" I am af eerd that werges on the poetical, Sam- 
my," said Mr. Weller, dubiously. 

" No, it don't," replied Sam, reading on very 
quickly, to avoid contesting the point. 

" * Except of me, Mary, my dear, as your wal- 
entine, and think over what I've said. — My dear 
Mary, I will now conclude.' That's all," said 
Sam. 

" That's raythur a sudden pull-up, ain't it, Sam- 
my ?" inquired Mr. Weller. 

" Not a bit on it," said Sam : " she'll vish there 
wos more, and that's the great art o' letter- 
writin'." 

" Well," said Mr. Weller, " there's somethin' 
in that ; and I wish your mother-in-law 'ud only 
conduct her conwersation on the same gen-teel 
principle. Ain't you a-goin' to sign it ?" 

"That's the difficulty," said Sam; "I don't 
know what to sign it." 

"Sign it — Teller," said the oldest surviving 
proprietor of that name. 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND RECITATION. 289 

" Won't do," said Sam. " Never sign a walen- 
tine with your own name." 

" Sign it ' Pickvick,' then," said Mr. Weller : 
M it's a wery good name, and an easy one to 
spell." 

" The wery thing," said Sam. "I could end 
with a werse ; what do you think ?" 

" I don't like it, Sam," rejoined Mr. Weller. 
" I never know'd a respectable coachman as wrote 
poetry, 'cept one, as made an affectm' copy o' 
werses the night afore he wos hung for a highway 
robbery ; and he wos only a Cambervell man, so 
even that's no rule." 

But Sam was not to be dissuaded from the 
poetical idea that had occurred to him, so he 
signed the letter — 

" Your love-sick 
Pickwick." 

Dickens. 



THE INDIANS AND THE MUSTAED. 

A party of Indians were being feted on the oc- 
casion of their first introduction to the manners 
and customs of the "pale-faces." The stoicism 
of the red man is a well-known trait. From child- 
hood these children of the forest are schooled to 
endure pain without wincing or crying, and to be 
equally undemonstrative in their emotions of joy. 
Any departure from this standard of manliness 
they regard as a contemptible weakness. The 
Indians of our story were true " braves," whom 



290 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

no new experience, either of pleasure or displeas- 
ure, could startle into any sign more expressive 
than a grunt, their countenances being uniformly 
grave and impassive. Behold them at the festal 
board. Everything is novel and strange, yet they 
give no token of surprise, and scorn to betray 
their sense of awkwardness even by so much as 
asking questions. They take what is offered 
them and gulp it down with stern and desperate 
gravity. To one of them a pot of mustard is 
handed. He helps himself liberally to the mild- 
looking mixture, and swallows a good spoonful of 
it. Spirit of the tornado ! Fiend of the burning 
prairie ! "What is this molten fire, compared to 
which the " fire-water " of the trader is as bland 
as milk ? The unhappy warrior struggled to con- 
ceal his agony ; but, though he succeeded in 
avoiding any contortion of the features, the tears, 
to his unspeakable disgust, chased themselves in 
a stream down his dusky cheeks. What would 
he not have given for an opportunity of scalping 
the innocent occasion of his trouble ! 

Meanwhile, his discomfort had not escaped the 
keen eyes of an Indian who sat beside him. 
Nudging his tearful comrade, the latter inquired, 
in low, guttural accents, the cause of his emotion. 
Suppressing his rage, the other mildly answered 
that he was thinking of his honored father who 
had lately gone to the happy hunting-grounds. 
Whether this explanation was regarded by the 
questioner as perfectly satisfactory we have no 
means of knowing ; he did not, however, press 



SELECTIONS FOR RE A DING AND REGIT A TION. 291 

his inquiries any further, nor does he appear to 
have suspected that the contents of the little jar 
had had anything in particular to do with the 
doleful memories of his friend. Presently the 
mustard came to him. It was a compound all un- 
tried ; but the warrior was a stranger to fear. He 
took the condiment without hesitation, and he 
swallowed it freely — just once. Ah ! ! Death 
and torments ! Is he on fire ? Will he die ? He 
is not quite sure ; but it requires all his strength 
to keep quiet. The blood mounts to his head, 
and the tears — ugh ! that he should thus play the 
squaw before all the company ! — rush from his 
bulging eyes. Indian No. 1 is an interested ob- 
server of this little incident. His eyes had been 
upon the mustard-pot, and he had quietly awaited 
developments. His turn had now come ; his re- 
venge was at hand. Nudging his inwardly-writh- 
ing neighbor, he asked, in mildest gutturals, 
" My brother, why do you weep ?" To which the 
furious sufferer gently replied, " I was weeping to 
think that when your precious father went to the 
happy hunting-grounds what a pity it was he did 
not take you with him." 



CAUDLE'S WEDDING-DAY. 

Caudle, love, do you know what next Sunday 
is ? No ? You don't ! Well, was there ever such 
a strange man ! Can't you guess, darling? Next 
Sunday, dear? Think, love, a minute, — just 
think. What ! and you don't know now ? Ha 1 



292 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

If I hadn't a better memory than you I don't 
know how we should ever get on. Well, then, 
pet, shall I tell you, dear, what next Sunday is ? 
Why, then, it's our wedding-day. What are you 
groaning at, Mr. Caudle ? I don't see anything 
to groan at. If anybody should groan, I'm sure 
it isn't you. No : I rather think it's I who ought 
to groan ! 

Oh, dear ! That's fourteen years ago. You 
were a very different man then, Mr. Caudle. 
What do you say ? And I was a very different 
woman ? Not at all ; just the same. Oh, you 
needn't roll your head about on the pillow in that 
way : I say, just the same. Well, then, if I'm 
altered, whose fault is it ? Not mine, I'm sure, 
— certainly not. Don't tell me that I couldn't 
talk at all then : I could talk just as well then as 
I can now ; only then I hadn't the same cause. 
It's you have made me talk. What do you 
say? You're very sorry for it ? Caudle, you do 
nothing but insult me. 

Ha ! You were a good-tempered, nice creature 
fourteen years ago, and would have done any- 
thing for me. Yes, yes, if a woman would be 
always cared for she should never marry. There's 
quite an end of the charm when she goes to 
church ! We're all angels while you're courting 
us ; but once married, how soon you pull our 
wings off ! No, Mr. Caudle, I'm not talking non- 
sense ; but the truth is, you like to hear nobody 
talk but yourself. Nobody ever tells me that I 
talk nonsense but you. Now, it's no use your 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 293 

turning and turning about in that way ; it's not a 
bit of — What do you say ? You'll get up ? No, 
you won't, Caudle ; you'll not serve me that trick 
again, for I've locked the door and hid the key. 
There's no getting hold of you in daytime ; but 
here you can't leave me. You needn't groan, Mr. 
Caudle. 

Now, Caudle, dear, do let us talk comfortably. 
After all, love, there's a good many folks who, I 
dare say, don't get on half so well as we've done. 
"We've both our little tempers, perhaps,but you are 
aggravating, you must own that, Caudle. Well, 
never mind ; we won't talk of it ; I won't scold 
you now. We'll talk of next Sunday, love. We 
never have kept our wedding-day, and I think it 
would be a nice day to have our friends. What 
do you say ? They'd think it hypocrisy ? No 
hypocrisy at all. I'm sure I try to be comfort- 
able ; and if ever a man was happy, you ought to 
be. No, Caudle, no ; it isn't nonsense to keep 
wedding-days ; it isn't a deception on the world, 
and if it is, how many people do it ! I'm sure it's 
only a proper compliment that a man owes to his 
wife. Look at the Winkles : don't they give a 
dinner every year ? Well, I know ; and if they 
do fight a little in the course of the twelvemonth, 
that's nothing to do with it. They keep their 
wedding-day, and their acquaintance have noth- 
ing to do with anything else. 

As I say, Caudle, it's only a proper compli- 
ment a man owes to his wife to keep his wedding- 
day. It is as much as to say to the whole world, 



294 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" There, if I had to marrj again, my blessed 
wife's the only woman I'd choose !" "Well, I see 
nothing to groan at, Mr. Caudle, — no, nor to sigh 
at, either ; but I know what you mean ; I'm sure, 
what would have become of you if you hadn't 
married as you have done — why, you'd have been 
a lost creature ! I know it ; I know your habits, 
Caudle; and — I don't like to say it — but you'd have 
been little better than a ragamuffin. Nice scrapes 
you'd have got into, I know, if you hadn't had 
me for a wife. The trouble I've had to keep jo\jl 
respectable ! — and what's my thanks ? Ha ! I 
only wish you'd had some women ! 

But we won't quarrel, Caudle. No ; you don't 
mean anything, I know. We'll have this little 
dinner, eh ? Just a few friends ? Now, don't 
say you don't care ; that isn't the way to speak 
to a wife, and especially the wife I've been to 
you, Caudle. Well, you agree to the dinner, eh ? 
Now, don't grunt, Mr. Caudle, but speak out. 
You'll keep your wedding-day ? What ? If FU 
let you go to sleep ? Ha, that's unmanly, Caudle ; 
can't you say, " Yes," without anything else ? I 
say — can't you say, " Yes " ? There, bless you ! 
I knew you would. 

And now, Caudle, what shall we have for din- 
ner? No, we won't talk of it to-morrow; we'll 
talk of it now, and then it will be off my mind. I 
should like something particular, — something out 
of the way, — just to show that we thought the 
day something. I should like — Mr. Caudle, 
you're not asleep ? What do I want ? Why, you 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 295 

know I want to settle about the dinner. Have 
ivhat I like ? No ; as it is your fancy to keep the 
day, it's only right that I should try to please 
you. We never had one, Caudle, so what do you 
think of a haunch of venison ? What do you say ? 
Mutton will do ? Ha ! that shows what you think 
of your wife. I dare say if it was any of your 
club friends — any of your pot-house companions 
— you'd have no objection to venison. I say 
if — What do you mutter ? Let it be venison ? 
Very well. And now about the fish. What do 
you think of a nice turbot ? No, Mr. Caudle, 
brill won't do ; it shall be turbot, or there shan't 
be any fish at all. Oh, what a mean man you are, 
Caudle! Shall it be turbot? It shall? And 
now about — the soup. Now, Caudle, don't swear 
at the soup in that manner : you know there must 
be soup. Well, once in a way, and just to show 
our friends how happy we've been, we'll have 
some real turtle. No, you ivorit ? you'll have noth- 
ing but mock ? Then, Mr. Caudle, you may sit a*t 
the table by yourself. Mock-turtle on a wedding- 
day ! Was there ever such an insult ? What do 
you say ? Let it be real, then, for once ? Ha, 
Caudle ! as I say, you were a very different person 
fourteen years ago. 

And, Caudle, you look after the venison ! 
There's a place I know, somewhere in the city, 
where you'll get it beautiful. You'll look at it ? 
You will ? Very well. 

And, now, who shall we invite ? Who I like ? 
Now, you know, Caudle, that's nonsense ; because 



296 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

I only like whom you like. I suppose the Pretty- 
mans must come. But understand, Caudle, I 
don't have Miss Pretty man : I am not going to 
have my peace of mind destroyed under my own 
roof : if she comes, I don't appear at the table. 
What do you say ? Very well ? Very well be it, 
then. 

And now, Caudle, you'll not forget the venison ? 
In the city, my dear ! You'll not forget the 
venison ? A haunch, you know, — a nice haunch. 
And you'll not forget the venison ? {A loud snore.) 
Bless me, if he ain't asleep ! Oh, the unfeeling 
men! 

Douglas Jerrold. 



A MODEST WIT. 

A supekcilious nabob of the East, — 

Haughty, being great, — purse-proud, being 
rich, — 
A governor, or general, at the least, 

I have forgotten which, — 
Had in his family a humble youth, 

Who went to England in his patron's suite, 
An unassuming boy, and yet in truth 

A lad of decent parts and good repute. 

This youth had sense and spirit ; 

But yet, with all his sense, 

Excessive diffidence 
Obscured his merit. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 297 

One day at table, flushed with pride aud wine, 
His honor, proudly free, severely merry, 

Conceived it would be vastly fine 
To crack a joke upon his secretary. 

"Young man," he said, "by what art, craft, or 
trade 

Did your good father gain a livelihood ?" 
" He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said, 

"And in his time was reckoned good." 

" A saddler, eh ! and taught you Greek, 

Instead of teaching you to sew ! 
Pray, why did not your father make 

A saddler, sir, of you ?" 

Each parasite then, as in duty bound, 

The joke applauded, and the laugh went round. 

At length Modestus, bowing low, 

Said (craving pardon, if too free he made), 

" Sir, by your leave, I fain would know 
Your father's trade !" 

" My father's trade ? Bless me, that's too bad ! 
My father's trade? Why, blockhead, are you 

mad? 
My father, sir, did never stoop so low : 
He was a gentleman, I'd have you know." 

" Excuse the liberty I take," 

Modestus said, with archness on his brow, 
" Pray, why did not your father make 

A gentleman of you ?" 



298 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 



HIEING A COOK. 

In the morning the old gentleman received the 
visits of sundry tradesmen, to whom he had given 
orders for different articles of dress ; and Wil- 
son, who was fully installed in his high office, 
presented for his approbation Monsieur Kissolle, 
"without exception the best cook in the United 
Kingdom." 

The particular profession of this person, the 
colonel, who understood very little French, was 
for some time puzzled to find out ; he heard a 
vocabulary of dishes enumerated with grace and 
fluency, he saw a remarkably gentlemanly-look- 
ing man, his well-tied neckcloth, his well- 
trimmed whiskers, his white kid gloves, his 
glossy hat, his massive chain encircling his neck, 
and protecting a repeating Breguet, all pronounc- 
ing the man of ton ; and when he came really 
to comprehend that the sweet-scented, ring- 
fingered gentleman before him was willing to 
dress a dinner on trial, for the purpose of dis- 
playing his skill, he was thunderstruck. 

" Do I mistake ?" said the colonel : " I really 
beg pardon, — it is fifty-eight years since I learned 
French, — am I speaking to — a " (and he hardly 
dared to pronounce the word) — " cook ?" 

"Oui, monsieur," said M. Kissolle ; "I believe 
I have de first reputation in de profession ; I live 
four years wiz de Marqui de Chester, and je me 
flatte dat, if I had not turn him off last months, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 299 

I should have superintend his cuisine at dis mo- 
ment." 

" Oh, you have discharged the marquis, sir ?" 
said the colonel. 

" Yes, mon colonel, I discharge him, because 
he cast affront upon me, insupportable to an art- 
ist of sentiment." 

"Artist !" mentally ejaculated the colonel. 

"Mon colonel, de marquihad de mauvais gout 
one day, when he had large partie to dine, to put 
salt into his soup, before all his compagnie." 

" Indeed," said Arden ; " and, may I ask, is 
that considered a crime, sir, in your code ?" 

" I don't know code," said the man. " Morue ? 
— dat is salt enough without." 

" I don't mean that, sir," said the colonel : " I 
ask, is it a crime for a gentleman to put salt into 
his soup ?" 

"Not a crime, mon colonel," said Eissolle, 
" but it would be de ruin of me, as cook, should 
it be known to de world : so I told his lordship I 
must leave him ; that de butler had said dat he 
saw his lordship put de salt into de soup, which 
was to proclaim to de universe dat I did not know 
de propre quantite of salt required to season my 
soup." 

" And you left his lordship for that ?" inquired 
the astonished country gentleman. 

" Oui, sir. His lordship gave me excellent 
character ; I go afterward to live wid my Lord 
Trefoil, very good, respectable man, my lord, of 
good family, and very honest man, I believe; 



300 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

but de king, one day made him his gouverneur 
in Ireland, and I found I could not live in dat 
Dublin." 

"No?" 

" No, mon colonel : it is fine city," said Eis- 
solle, — " good place, — but dere is no Italian 
Opera." 

" How shocking !" said Arden. " And you left 
his Excellency on that account?" 

" Oui, mon colonel." 

" Why, his Excellency managed to live there 
without an Italian Opera," said Arden. 

" Yes, mon colonel, c'est vrai ; but I presume 
he did not know dere was none when he took de 
place. I have de character from my lord, to 
state why I leave him." 

Saying which, he produced a written character 
from Lord Trefoil, who, being a joker as well as 
a minister, had actually stated the fact related 
by the unconscious turnspit as the reason for 
their separation. 

" And pray, sir," said the colonel, " what wages 
do you expect ?" 

" Wages ! Je n'entend pas, mon colonel," 
answered Eissolle. " Do you mean de stipend, 
— de salarie ?" 

" As you please," said Arden. 

" My Lord Trefoil," said Eissolle, " give to me 
seven hundred pound a year, my wine, and horse 
and tilbury, with small tigre for him." 

" Small what, sir ?" exclaimed the astonished 
colonel. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 301 

"Tigre," said Kissolle ; "little man-boy, to 
hold de horse." 

" Ah ! said Arden, " seven hundred pounds a 
year, and a tiger !" 

" Exclusive of de patisserie, mon colonel. I 
never touch dat department ; but I have de 
honor to recommend Jenkin, my sister's husband, 
for de patisserie, at five hundred pound and his 
wine. Oh, Jenkin is dog ship at dat, mon 
colonel." 

"Oh! exclusive of pastry," said the colonel 
emphatically. 

" Oui, mon colonel," said Eissolle. 

"Which is to be contrived for five hundred 
pounds per annum additional. Why, sir, the 
rector of my parish, a clergyman and a gentle- 
man, with an amiable wife and seven children, 
has but half the sum to live upon." 

" Dat is hard," said Eissolle, shrugging up his 
shoulders. 

" Hard ? — it is hard, sir," said Arden ; " and 
yet you will hear the men who pay their cooks 
seven hundred a year for dressing dinners get up 
in their places in Parliament, declaim against 
the exorbitant wealth of the Church of England, 
and tell the people that our clergy are over- 
paid." 

"Poor clergie ! Mon colonel," said the man, 
" I pity your clergie ; but den you don't remem- 
ber de science and experience dat it require to 
make an omelette soufflee." 

M Sir !" said Arden. " Do you mean seriously 



302 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

and gravely to ask me seven hundred pounds a 
year for your services ?" 

" Oui, vraiment, mon colonel," said Eissolle, 
at the same moment gracefully taking snuff from 
a superb gold box. 

" Why, sir, I can't stand this any longer," 
cried the irritated novice in the fashionable world. 
" Seven hundred pounds ! Make it guineas, sir, 
and I'll be your cook for the rest of my life." 

The noise of this annunciation, the sudden 
leap taken by Monsieur Eissolle, to avoid some- 
thing more serious than words, which he antici- 
pated from the irate colonel, brought Wilson into 
the room, who, equally terrified with his Gallic 
friend at the symptoms of violent anger which 
his master's countenance displayed, stood won- 
dering at the animation of the scene ; when Ar- 
den, whose rage at the nonchalance of Eissolle 
at first impeded his speech, uttered, with an 
emphasis not to be misunderstood, — 

" Good-morning, sir. Seven hundred — " 

What the rest of this address might have been 
it is impossible to say, for before it was con- 
cluded Eissolle had left the apartment, and Wil- 
son closed the door. 

Theodore Hook. 

MME. EEF. 

Monsieue Adam was all alone in ze garden. 
He have plenty for eat and plenty for drink and 
ees very comfortable, but he 'ave not much 
clothes. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 303 

Von evening he lie down on ze ground for take 
a nap. In ze morning he wake viz pain in his 
side. 

He say : " Oh, mon Dieu, vat ees ze mattair, 
eh ? Ah ! ees von rib gone ! I shall take un 
promenade in ze open air. I shall feel bettaire." 

He promenade. Mme. Eef she approach. It 
is ze first lady zat M. Adam have ever met ; it ees 
Mme. Eef 's first entree to society. They approach 
each other and both are very much attract. M. 
Adam, he say : " Madame, shall I 'ave ze plaisair 
for promenade viz you?" 

Mme. Eef respond, " I shall be most happy," 
and they valk together. 

Zey promenade under un arbre ; un arbre viz 
ze pretty appel on it ; ze pretty appel viz ze red 
streak. 

Monsieur le Serpent he sit up in ze arbre. He 
'ave pretty mask all over hees face — look like ele- 
gant gentilhomme. 

Madame Eef she see Monsieur le Serpent viz 
ze pretty mask and ze appel viz ze red streak, 
and she ees very much attract. 

Monsieur le Serpent he say, "Madame Eef, 
shall I 'ave ze plaisair for peek you un appel ?" 

Madame Eef she reach out her hand for take ze 
appel. 

Monsieur Adam he say : " Hola ! hola ! voila ! 
Yat you do, eh ? Do you not know ees prohibit ? 
You must not touch ze appel ! If you eat ze ap- 
pel you shall become like un Dieu — you shall 
know ze good from ze evil !" 



304 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Monsieur le Serpent lie take un pinch of snuff. 
He say : " Monsieur Adam, ees prohibit for you. 
If you eat ze appel you shall become like un 
Dieu — you shall know ze good from ze evil. But 
Madame Eef — Madame Eef — she cannot become 
more of a goddess zan she ees now." 

And zat finish Madame Eef. 



SEKMON. 

Bbetheen : 

The words of my text are : 

" Old Mother Hubbard, she went to the cupboard, 
To get her poor dog a bone ; 
But when she got there, the cupboard was bare, 
And so the poor dog had none." 

These beautiful words, dear friends, carry with 
them a solemn lesson. 

I propose this evening to analyze their mean- 
ing, and to attempt to apply it, lofty as it may be, 
to our every-day life. 

" Old Mother Hubbard, she went to the cupboard, 
To get her poor dog a bone." 

Mother Hubbard, you see, was old ; there be- 
ing no mention of others, we may presume she was 
alone ; a widow — a friendless, old, solitary widow. 

Yet, did she despair ? Did she sit down and 
weep, or read a novel, or wring her hands ? No ! 
" she went to the cupboard." And here observe that 
she went to the cupboard. She did not hop, or 
skip, or run, or jump, or use any other peripa- 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 305 

tetic artifice ; she solely and merely went to the 
cupboard. 

We have seen that she was old and lonely, and 
we now further see that she was poor. For, 
mark, the words are " the cupboard." 

Not "one of the cupboards," or the "right- 
hand cupboard," or the " left-hand cupboard," or 
the one above, or the one below, or the one under 
the stair, but just the cupboard. The one little 
humble cupboard the poor widow possessed. 
And why did she go to the cupboard ? Was it to 
bring forth golden goblets, or glittering precious 
stones, or costly apparel, or feasts, or any other 
attributes of wealth ? It was to get her poor dog a 
bone ! Not only was the widow poor, but her dog, 
the sole prop of her age, was poor too. 

We can imagine the scene. The poor dog 
crouching in the corner, looking wistfully at the 
solitary cupboard, and the widow going to that 
cupboard — in hope, in expectation maybe — to 
open it, although we are not distinctly told that 
it was not half open, or ajar, to open it for that 
poor dog. 

" But when she got there, the cupboard was bare, 
And so the poor dog had none." 

"When she got there !" You see, dear breth- 
ren, what perseverance is. 

You see the beauty of persistence in doing right. 
She got there. 

There were no turnings and twistings, no slip- 



306 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

pings and slidings, no leaning to the right, or 
falterings to the left. 

With glorious simplicity we are told she_ got 
there. 

And how was her noble effort rewarded ? 

" The cupboard was bare !" It was bare ! 
There were to be found neither oranges, nor 
cheesecakes, nor penny buns, nor gingerbread, 
nor crackers, nor nuts, nor lucifer matches. 

The cupboard was bare ! 

There was but one, only one, solitary cupboard 
in the whole of that cottage, and that one, the 
sole hope of the widow and the glorious loadstar 
of the poor dog, was bare ! Had there been a 
leg of mutton, a loin of lamb, a fillet of veal, even 
an ice from Gunter's, the case would have been 
different, the incident would have been other- 
wise. 

But it was bare, my brethren, bare as a bald 
head, bare as an infant born without a caul. 

Many of you will probably say, with all the 
pride of worldly sophistry, The widow, no 
doubt, went out, and bought a dog-biscuit. 

Ah, no ! Far removed from these earthly ideas, 
these mundane desires, poor Mother Hubbard, 
the widow, whom many thoughtless worldlings 
would despise, in that she only owned one cup- 
board, perceived — or I might even say, saw — at 
once the relentless logic of the situation, and 
yielded to it with all the heroism of that nature 
which had enabled her without deviation to reach 
the barren cupboard. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND REC1TA TION. ' K fl 

She did not attempt, like the stiff-necked scof- 
fers of this generation, to war against the inevi- 
table ; she did not try, like the so-called men of 
science, to explain what she did not understand. 

She did nothing. "The poor dog had none!" 
And then, at this point, our information ceases. 

But do we not know sufficient ? Are we not 
cognizant of enough ? 

Who would dare to pierce the veil that shrouds 
the ulterior fate of old Mother Hubbard, the 
poor dog, the cupboard, or the bone that was not 
there ? 

Must we imagine her still standing at the open 
cupboard door — depict to ourselves the dog still 
drooping his disappointed tail upon the floor — 
the sought-for bone still remaining somewhere 
else? 

Ah, no ! my dear brethren, we are not so per- 
mitted to attempt to read the future. Suffice it 
for us to glean from this beautiful story its many 
lessons ; suffice it for us to apply them, to study 
them as far as in us lies, and, bearing in mind the 
natural frailty of our nature, to avoid being wid- 
ows ; to shun the patronymic of Hubbard ; to 
have, if our means afford it, more than one cup- 
board in the house, and to keep stores in them 
all. 

And oh ! dear friends, keeping in recollection 
what we have learned this day, let us avoid keep- 
ing dogs that are fond of bones. 

But, brethren, if we do — if fate has ordained 
that we should do any of these things — let us then 



308 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

go, as Mother Hubbard did, straight, without 
curveting or prancing, to our cupboard, empty 
though it be ; let us, like her, accept the inevi- 
table with calm steadfastness ; and should we, 
like her, ever be left with a hungry dog and an 
empty cupboard, may future chroniclers be able 
to write also of us, in the beautiful words of our 

text : 

" And so the poor dog had none." 

Portsmouth (Eng.) Monitor, 

TEDDY'S SIX BULLS. 

A MERRY evening party in an English country 
town were bantering poor Teddy O'Toole, the 
Irishman, about his countrymen being so famous 
for bulls. 

" By my faith," said Teddy, " you needn't talk 
about that same in this place : you're as fond of 
bulls as any people in all the world, so you are." 

" Nonsense !" some of the party replied ; " how 
do you make that out ?" 

"Why, sure, it's very aisy, it is; for in this 
paltry bit of a town you've got more public 
houses nor I ever seen wid the sign of the bull 
over the doors, so you have," said Teddy. 

" Nay, Teddy, very few of those ; but there's 
some of 'em, you know, in every town." 

" Yes," said Teddy, obstinately sticking to his 
text, for he had laid a trap for his friends ; " but 
you've more nor your share, barring that you're 
so fond of bulls, as I say. I'm sure I can count 
half a dozen of 'em." 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 309 

" Pooh, nonsense !" cried the party : " that will 
never do. What'll you bet on that, Teddy? 
You're out there, my boy, depend upon it : we 
know the town as well as you ; and what will 
you bet ?" 

"Indeed, my brave boys, I'll not bet at all. 
I'm no better, I assure ye : I should be worse, if 
I wur." This sally tickled his companions, and 
he proceeded : " But I'll be bound to name and 
count the six." 

"Well, do, do," said several voices. 

" Now, let me see ; there's the Black Bull." 

" Yes, that's one." 

" Then, there's the Ked Bull." 

" That's two." 

"And the White Bull." 

" Come, that's three." 

"And the Pied Bull." 

" So there is ; you'll not go much farther." 

"And then there's — there's — there's the Gold- 
en Bull, in — what's it street?" 

" Well done, Teddy ; there's five, sure enough ; 
but you're short yet." 

"Ay," said the little letter-carrier, who sat 
smirking in the corner, " and he will be short ; 
for there isn't one more, I know." 

"And then, remember," continued Teddy, 
carefully pursuing his enumeration, " there's the 
Dun Cow." 

At this a burst of laughter fairly shook the 
room, and busy hands kept the tables and glasses 
rattling, amidst boisterous cries of, — 



310 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

"A bull! a bull!" 

Looking seriously at all around, Teddy delib- 
erately asked, — 

" Do you call that a bull ?" 

"To be sure, it's a bull," exclaimed several 
voices at once. 

"Then," said Teddy, "that's the sixth." 

A BAIL WAY MATINEE. 

The last time I ran home over the Chicago, 
Burlington and Quincy we had a very small, but 
select and entertaining party on the train. It was 
a warm day, and everybody was tired with the 
long ride and oppressed by the heat. The pre- 
cise woman, with her hat swathed in an immense 
blue veil, who always parsed her sentences before 
she uttered them, utterly worn out and thorough- 
ly lonesome, was glad to respond to the pleasant 
nod of the big rough man who got on at Mon- 
mouth, and didn't know enough grammar to ask 
for the mustard so that you could tell whether he 
wanted you to pass it to him or pour it on his 
hair. The thin, troubled-looking man with the 
sandy goatee, who stammered so dreadfully that 
he always forgot what he wanted to say before 
he got through wrestling with any word with a 
" W" in it, lit up with a tremulous, hesitating 
smile, as he noticed this indication of sociability, 
for, like most men who find it extremely difficult 
to talk at all, he wanted to talk all the time. 
And the fat old gentleman sitting opposite him, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 311 

who was so deaf that he couldn't hear the cars 
rattle, and always awed and bothered the stam- 
merer into silence by saying "Hey?" in a very 
imperative tone, every time he got in the middle 
of a hard word, cocked his irascible head on one 
side as he saw this smile, and after listening in- 
tently to dead silence for a minute, suddenly broke 
out with such an emphatic, impatient, "Hey?" 
that everybody in the car started up and shouted, 
nervously and ungrammatically : " I didn't say 
nothing !" with the exception of the woman with 
the blue veil, who said : " I said nothing." 

The fat old gentleman was a little annoyed and 
startled by such a chorus of responses, and fixing 
his gaze still more intently upon the thin man, 
said defiantly : 

" Wha' say ?" 

"I-I-I-I w-w-wuh-wuh-wasn'-wasn' — I wasn' 
s-s-sp — speak — " 

" Hey?" roared the fat man. 

" He wa'n't sayin' nauthin'," shouted the big 
rough man, nodding friendly encouragement to 
the thin man ; " he hain't opened his mouth I" 

" Soap in the South ?" queried the fat old gen- 
tleman, impatiently. " Wha' for ?" 

" Mouth, mouth," explained the precise woman, 
with impressive nicety. " He said ' opened his 
mouth.' The gentleman, seated directly opposite 
you was — " 

" Offers to chew what ?" cried the fat old gen- 
tleman in amazement. 

" Sir," said the precise woman, " I made no 



312 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

reference whatever to chewing. You certainly 
misunderstood me." 

The thin man took courage from so many re- 
inforcements, and broke in : 

" I-I-I-I d-d-d-dud-d-u-d-d-u-d-don't don't— 
I don't ch-ch-ch— " 

"Hey?" shouted the fat gentleman. 

"He don't chaw nauthin' !" roared the big 
rough man, in a voice that made the car windows 
rattle. " He wa'n't a talkin' when you shot off 
at him !" 

" Who got off ?" exclaimed the fat old gentle- 
man. " Wha'd' he get off for ?" 

" You don't appear to comprehend clearly what 
he stated," shrieked the precise woman. "No 
person has left the train." 

"Then wha'd' he say so for?" shouted the fat 
man. 

" Oh !" said the thin man, in a surprising burst 
of fluency ; " he-he-de-d-d-did did — " 

" Who did ?" queried the fat man, talking 
louder than any one else. 

" Num - num-num-num-n-no - nobody nobody. 
He he-d-d-d-d-dud-didn't didn't s— " 

" Then wha' made you say he did ?" howled 
the deaf man. 

"You misunderstand him," interrupted the 
precise woman. " He was probably about to re- 
mark that no reference whatever had been inten- 
tionally made to the departure of any person 
from the train, when you interrupted him in the 
midst of an unfinished sentence, and hence ob- 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND RECITA 1 ION. 818 

tained an erroneous impression of the tenor of 
his remarks. He meant no offense — " 

" Know a fence ?" roared the fat man. " Of 
course I know a fence !" 

"He hain't got middlin' good hearin','' yelled 
the big man, as apologetically as a steam whistle 
could have shrieked it. " Y'ears kind of stuffed 
up!" 

" Time to brush up?" cried the fat man. " Wha' 
for ?" 

"No," shrieked the precise woman; "he re- 
marked to the other gentleman that your hearing 
appeared to be rather defective." 

" His father a detective ?" hooted the fat gen- 
tleman, in amazement. 

" N-n-n-n-nun-nun-no !" broke in the thin man ; 
" h-h-h-h-huh-huh-he-s-s-sa-sa-said-said you w- 
w-w-wuh was a little dud-dud — was a little 
deaf." 

" Said I was a thief !" howled the fat man, a 
scarlet tornado of wrath ; " said I was a thief ! 
Wha'd'ye mean ? Show him to me ! Who says 
I'm a thief ? Who says so?" 

" Now," shouted the big rough man, " nobody 
don't say ye ain't no thief. I jest sayed as how 
we didn't git along very well. Ye see he," nod- 
ding to the thin man, " he can't talk very well, 

» j> 

an — 

" Wh-wh-wh-why c-c-can't I t-t-t-tut-tut-tut- 

talk?" broke in the thin man, white with rage. 

" I-I-I-I'd like t-t-to know wh-wh-wh- what's the 

reason I c-c-can't tut-tut-talk as w-w-w-well as 



314 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

any bub-bub-body that's bub-bub-bub-been tut- 
tut-talking on this car ever s-s-s- since the tut-tut- 
tut— " 

" Hey ?" roared the fat man, in an explosion of 
indignant suspicion. 

" I was sayin','' howled the big rough man, " as 
how he didn't talk middlin' well — " 

" Should say so," growled the fat man, in tones 
of intense satisfaction. 

"An'," the big rough man went on, yelling 
with delight at having made the old party hear 
something, " an' you can't hear only tollable — " 

"Can't hear?" the fat old gentleman broke 
out in a resonant roar. "Can't hear! Like to 
know why I can't hear ! Why can't I ? If I 
couldn't hear better than half the people on this 
train I'd cut off my ears ! Can't hear ? It's news 
to me if I can't. I'd like to know who — " " Bur- 
lington !" yelled the brakeman. " Chang' car f'r 
Keokuk, Ceed Eap's an' For' Mad'son ! This 
car f'r Omaha ! Twen' mints f'r supper !" 

And but for this timely interruption, I don't 
think our pleasant little party would have got out 
of that snarl this side of San Francisco. 

R. J. Burdette. 



UNCLE REUBEN'S BAPTISM. 

He is an industrious colored man, living in a 
small cabin down the river ; and his wife is a 
corpulent, good-natured woman, but very deaf. 

Some weeks ago, Eeuben began to ponder. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RB( 7 7 ' 1 TION. 315 

He had never been a bad darky ; but he had 
never embraced Christianity, much to the sorrow 
of Aunt Susan, his wife, who has been prepared 
for heaven, lo, these many years past. The more 
he pondered, the more he became convinced that 
he ought to become a Christian ; and Aunt Susan 
encouraged him with tender words and tearful 
eyes. 

The old man came to town several days ago to 
see about joining a church, and was informed 
that he would have to be baptized before he 
could become a member. He didn't relish the 
idea much ; but he informed his wife that he 
would consent ; and she clasped her hands, and 
replied, 

" Glory to Eichmond ! De angels am a-com- 
in' !" 

Uncle Keuben got the idea, the other day, that 
he'd like to try the water alone, before being pub- 
licly baptized ; and while his wife was getting 
breakfast ready, he slipped down to the river- 
bank to take a preparatory dip. He removed his 
coat, hat, and boots, placed them on a log, and 
as he descended the bank, his broad feet slipped, 
and the convert came down on the back of his 
neck. 

" What de debbil !" — he commenced, as he 
picked himself up ; but suddenly remembering 
that he was soon to join the church, he checked 
himself, and remarked, — 

" I'm ashamed of dat ; and I hope de angels 
will 'scuse me." 



316 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

He put one foot into the water, and drew back 
with a shiver ; put in the other, and looked long- 
ingly toward the house. At that moment Aunt 
Susan began singing, — 

" We's gwine up to glory : 
"We's gwine on de cars." 

And old Keuben braced up, and entered the 
water. 

" Yes ; we's gwine up to glory !" he remarked 
as he waded along, — "gwine on de fast express." 

At the next step, his foot struck a sunken log : 
and he pitched over it, under water, head first. 
As soon as he came to the surface, and blew the 
water from his mouth, he yelled, — 

" Woosh ! What in blazes is dis yere perform- 
ance ?" 

In raising up, his foot slid over the log, and 
under a limb, in such a manner, that the old 
darky was caught fast. He could hang to a 
stub of a limb, but he could not put himself for- 
ward enough to slip his foot out of the trap. 

" Whar de angels now ?" he yelled out, as he 
kicked the water higher than his head. 

Aunt Susan answered with, — 

"De angels am a-comin': 
I hear de music play." 

When the old man realized that he was fast, 
and must have help from the shore, he yelled 
out, — 

" Ho, dare, old woman ! Hi !" 



SELECTIONS FOR RE A DING AND REGIT A TION 317 

She couldn't Lave heard a cannon fire on the 
bank of the river, and went on singing, — 

" Dare's a seat for me in heaven : 
I'se gwine to jine de band." 

" Hi, dare ! I'll jine your old black head off, if 
you don't hear me !" yelled old Reuben. 

He struggled and kicked, got his head under 
water, and out, and yelled, — 

" Cuss dat old woman ! Why don't she hear 
me?" 

" Uncle Reuben's a-gwine 
To be an angel sho'," 

came the song. 

" It's a lie, a big debbil lie !" he yelled, pulling 
his head under water again. 

" And he'll fly among de angels, 
And play upon a harp," 

continued the old woman, as she turned over the 
bacon. 

" Hi, dare ! woosh, whoop !" he yelled, flound- 
ering around, pulling at his leg. 

" De Lawd has got his name, 
And dere is a place for him !" 

howled the old woman. 

" Whoa dare, you old black villum !" yelled 
Uncle Reuben. 

" Dey'll dress him up in white, 
Wid a crown upon his brow," 



318 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

wailed Aunt Susan, as she poured the water off 
the potatoes. 

" If I ebber git out o' dis ribber alive, I'll 
break her old deaf head, I will !" growled the 
victim ; and then, raising his voice, he shouted, — 

" You dare, old Satan, hi, hi !" As if in direct 
answer, came the song, — 

" He struggles wid de evil one, 
But he gained de vict'ry, sho' !" 

" Susan, Susan !" if I had you by de wool, I'd 
barry dat old deaf head agin de cabin till yer 
eyes couldn't see !" he screamed ; and he made 
another tremendous effort to get loose. It was 
successful ; and just then she sang, — 

" Oh ! whar's de angel now ? 
Send him 'long ; send him 'long !" 

" De angel am a-comin' !" growled Uncle Reu- 
ben as he waded ashore ; " and he'll turn dat 
cabin inside out !" 

He limped up to the house. She was placing 
the meal on the table, and singing, — 

" He's gwine to be baptized ; 
He's gwine — " 

when he entered the house, and gave her a cuff 
on the ear which nearly loosened the roots of her 
hair. 

" Oh, yes ! I'ze an angel wid wings on, I is !" 
he yelled, as he brought her another cuff; "and 
I'ze gwine to glory, — and I'll knock yer old head 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITA TION 819 

off ! — and I'ze gwine to jiue de band — and you 
deaf old alligator! — and I'ze gwine up to heaven 
— and blame yer old deaf ears ! — and de glory 
am a-comin' ! " 

People who know Uncle Reuben say that he 
swears again with great relish ; and it is certain 
that he hasn't been up to Vicksburgh to be bap- 
tized and become a church-member. 



THE YELLOW DOMINO. 

In the latter part of the reign of Louis XV. of 
France the masquerade was an entertainment 
high in estimation, and was often given at an im- 
mense cost on court-days and such occasions of 
rejoicing. As persons of all ranks might gain 
admission to these spectacles, provided they 
could afford the purchase of the ticket, very 
strange rencontres frequently took place at them, 
and exhibitions almost as curious in the way of 
disguise or assumption of character. But per- 
haps the most whimsical among the genuiue sur- 
prises recorded at any of these spectacles was 
that which occurred in Paris the 15th of October, 
on the day when the dauphin attained the age of 
one-and-twenty. 

At this fete, which was of a peculiarly glitter- 
ing character, — so much so, that the details of it 
are given at great length by the historians of the 
day, — the strange demeanor of a man in a yel- 
low domino, early in the evening, excited atten- 



320 COBRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

tion. This mask, who showed nothing remark- 
able as to figure, though tall rather, and of 
robust proportions, seemed to be gifted with an 
appetite not merely past human comprehension, 
but passing the fancies even of romance. 

" The dragon of old, who churches ate 
(He used to come on a Sunday), 
Whole congregations were to him 
But a dish of Salmagundi," 

was a nibbler — a mere fool — to this stranger of 
the yellow domino. He passed from chamber to 
chamber, from table to table of refreshments, 
not tasting, but devouring, devastating, all be- 
fore him. At one board he despatched a fowl, 
two thirds of a ham, and half a dozen bottles of 
champagne ; the very next minute he was found 
seated in another apartment, performing the 
same feat with a stomach better than at first. 
This strange course went on until the company, 
who at first had been amused by it, became 
alarmed and tumultuous. 

" Is it the same mask ? or are there several 
dressed alike?" demanded an officer of the 
guards, as the yellow domino rose from a seat 
opposite to him and left the apartment. 

" I have seen but one, and, by heavens, he is 
here again I" exclaimed the party to whom the 
query was addressed. 

The yellow domino spoke not a word, but pro- 
ceeded straight to the vacant seat which he had 
just left, and again commenced supping, as 
though he had fasted for the half of a campaign. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 881 

At length the confusion which the proceeding 
created became universal, and the cause reached 
the ears of the dauphin. 

" He is a very fiend, your highness," exclaimed 
an old nobleman, " or wants but a tail to be 
so!" 

" Say rather he should be a famished poet, by 
his appearance," replied the prince, laughing. 
" But there must be some juggling : he spills all 
his wine, and hides the provisions under his 
robe." 

Even while they were speaking, the yellow 
domino entered the room in which they were 
talking, and, as usual, proceeded to the table of 
refreshments. 

" See here, my lord," cried one ; " I have seen 
him do this twice." 

"I thrice!"— "I five times !"— " And I fif- 
teen!" 

This was too much. The master of ceremonies 
was questioned. He knew nothing, and the yel- 
low domino was interrupted as he was carrying 
a bumper of claret to his lips. 

" The prince desires that Monsieur who wears 
the yellow domino should unmask." The stran- 
ger hesitated. 

" The command with which his highness hon- 
ors Monsieur is perfectly absolute." 

Against that which is absolute there is no con- 
tending. The yellow man threw off his mask 
and domino, and proved to be a private trooper 
of the Irish dragoons ! 



322 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" And in the name of gluttony, my good friend 
(not to ask how you gained admission), how have 
you contrived," said the prince, " to sup to-night 
so many times?" 

" Sire, I was but beginning to sup, when your 
royal message interrupted me." 

"Beginning!" exclaimed the dauphin, in 
amazement. " Then what is it I have heard and 
seen? Where are the herds of oxen that have 
disappeared and the hampers of burgundy! I 
insist upon knowing how this is!" 

" It is, sire," returned the soldier, " may it 
please your grace, that the troop to which I 
belong is to-day on guard. "We have purchased 
one ticket among us, and provided this yellow 
domino, which fits us all. By which means the 
whole of the front rank, being myself the last 
man, have supped, if the truth must be told, 
at discretion ; and the leader of the second 
rank, saving your highness's commands, is now 
waiting outside the door to take his turn." 



MISS EDITH HELPS THINGS ALONG. 

My sister '11 be down in a minute, and says 
you're to wait, if you please, 

And says I might stay 'til she came, if I'd prom- 
ise her never to tease, 

Nor speak 'til you spoke to me first. But that's 
nonsense, for how would you know 

What she told me to say, if I didn't ? Don't you 
really and truly think so ? 



SELECTIONS FOli READING AND RECITATION. 

And then you'd feel strange here alone ! And 

you wouldn't know just where to sit : 
For that chair isn't strong on its legs, and we 

never use it a bit. 
We keep it to match with the sofa. But Jack 

says it would be like you 
To flop yourself right down upon it and knock 

out the very last screw. 

S'pose you try ? I won't tell. You're afraid to ! O! 

you're afraid they would think it was mean ! 
Well, then, there's the album — that's pretty, if 

you're sure that your fingers are clean, 
For sister says sometimes I daub it ; but she only 

says that when she's cross. 
There's her picture. You know it ? It's like her ; 

but she ain't as good-looking, of course ! 

This is me. It's the best of 'em all. Now, tell 
me, you'd never have thought 

That once I was little as that ? It's the only one 
that could be bought : 

For that was the message to pa from the photo- 
graph man where I sat — 

That he wouldn't print off any more till he first 
got his money for that. 

What? Maybe you're tired of waiting. Why, 

often she's longer than this. 
There's all her back hair to do up and all of her 

front curls to friz. 



324 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

But it's nice to be sitting here talking like grown 

people, just you and me. 
Do you think you'll be coming here often ? Oh, 

do ! But don't come like Tom Lee. 



Tom Lee. Her last beau. "Why, my goodness ! 

he used to be here day and night, 
Till the folks thought he'd be her husband ; and 

Jack says that gave him a fright. 
You won't run away, then, as he did ? for you're 

not a rich man, they say. 
Pa says you are poor as a church mouse. Now, 

are you ? And how poor are they ? 

Ain't you glad that you met me ? Well, I am ; 

for I know now that your hair isn't red. 
But what there is left of it's mousy, and not what 

that naughty Jack said. 
But there ! I must go. Sister's coming. But I 

wish I could wait, just to see 
If she ran up to you to greet you in the way that 

she used to greet Lee." 

B. Harte. 



THE BACHELOR'S DREAM. 

My pipe is lit, my grog is mixed, 
My curtains drawn and all is snug, 

Old Puss is in her elbow-chair, 
And Tray is sitting on the rug. 



SELECTIONS FOli HEADING AND RECITATION. 

Last night I had a curious dream, 

Miss Susan Bates was Mistress Mogg — 

What d'ye think of that, my Cat? 
What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 

She looked so fair, she sang so well, 

I could but woo and she was won. 
Myself in blue, the bride in white, 

The ring was placed, the deed was done 1 
Away we went in chaise-and-four, 

As fast as grinning boys could flog — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat ? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog? 

What loving tete-a-tetes to come ! 

But tete-a-tetes must still defer! 
When Susan came to live with me, 

Her mother came to live with her ! 
With sister Belle she couldn't part, 

But all my ties had leave to jog — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 

The mother bought a pretty poll, 

A monkey too, — what work he made ! 
The sister introduced a beau, 

My Susan brought a favorite maid. 
She had a Tabby of her own, — 

A snappish mongrel christened Gog — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 



326 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

The monkey bit, the parrot screamed, 

All day the sister strummed and sung, 
The petted maid was such a scold ! 

My Susan learned to use her tongue ; 
Her mother had such wretched health, 

She sate and croaked like any frog — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat ? 

"What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 

No longer Deary, Duck, and Love, 

I soon came down to simple "M !" 
The very servants crossed my wish, 

My Susan let me down to them. 
The poker hardly seemed my own, 

I might as well have been a log — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat ? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 

My clothes they were the queerest shape ! 

Such coats and hats she never met ! 
My ways they were the oddest ways ! 

My friends were such a vulgar set ! 
Poor Tompkinson was snubbed and huffed, 

She could not bear that Mister Blogg — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 

At times we had a spar, and then 
Mamma must mingle in the song ; 

The sister took a sister's part, 

The maid declared her master wrong, 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND BB( 7 7-1 TION. 397 

The parrot learned to call ine " Fool !" 
My life was like a London fog — 

What d'ye think of that, my Cat ? 
What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 

My Susan's taste was superfine, 

As proved by bills that had no end — 
/ never had a decent coat, 

/never had a coin to spend ! 
She forced me to resign my club, 

Lay down my pipe, retrench my grog — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 

Each Sunday night we gave a rout 

To fops and flirts, a pretty list ; 
And when I tried to steal away, 

I found my study full of whist ! 
Then, first to come and last to go, 

There always was a Captain Hogg — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat ? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog? 

Now was that not an awful dream 

For one who single is and snug — 
With Pussy in the elbow-chair 

And Tray reposing on the rug? — 
If I must totter down the hill, 

'Tis safest done without a clog — 
What d'ye think, my Cat? 

What d'ye think, my Dog ? 

Hood, 



328 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 
HALF-WAY DOIN'S. 

Belubbed fellow-trabellers, in holdiii' forth to- 
day, 

I doesn't quote no special verse for what I has to 
say; 

De sermon will be berry short, an' dis here am de 
tex': 

Dat half-way doin's ain't no 'count in dis worl' 
nor de nex'. 

Dis worl' dat we's a-libbin' in is like a cotton row, 

Where ebery cullud gentleman has got his line to 
hoe ; 

An' ebery time a lazy nigger stops to take a nap, 

De grass keeps on a-growin' for to smudder up 
de crap. 

When Moses led de Jews acrost de waters of de 

sea, 
Dey had to keep a-goin' jus' as fas' as fas' could 

be; 
Do you suppose dey could eber hab succeeded in 

dere wish, 
And reached de promised land at last, if they had 

stopped to fish ? 
My Men's, dere was a garden once, where Adam 

libbed wid Eve, 
Wid no one roun' to bodder dem, no nabors for 

to thieve ; 
An ebery day was Christmas, an' dey had dere 

rations free, 
An' eberyting belonged to dem except an apple- 
tree. 



8BLB0TI0N8 FOR UEADINQ AND BBi 'IT A TION, 

You all know 'bout de story, — how de snake come 

snookin' 'round, 
A stuinp-tail, rusty moccasin, a-crawlin* on cle 

ground, 
How Eve an' Adam ate de fruit, an' went an' hid 

dere face, 
Till de angel oberseer came an' drove dem oft' de 

place. 
Now, s'pose dis man an' 'ooman, too, hadn't 

'tempted for to shirk, 
But had gone about dere gardenin', an' 'tended 

to dere work, 
Dey wouldn't have been loafin' where dey had no 

business to, 
An' de debble nebber'd got a chance to tell 'em 

what to do. 

No half-way doin's, bredren, 'twill nebber do, I 

say! 
Go at your task, an' finish it, an' den's de time to 

play ; 
For even if de crap is good, de rain will spoil de 

bolls, 
Unless you keeps a-pickin' in de garden ob your 

souls. 
Keep a-ploughin', an' a-hoein', an' a-scrapin' up 

de rows ; 
An' when de ginnin's ober you can pay up what 

you owes ; 
But if you quits a-workin' ebery time de sun is 

hot 
De sheriff's gwine to leby upon eberyting you's 

got. 



330 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Whateber you's a-dribin' at, be sure an' dribe it 

t'ro', 
An' don't let nothin' stop you, but do what you's 

gwine to do ; 
For when you see a nigger foolin', den, sure as 

you are born, 
You's gwine to see him comin' out de small end 

ob de horn. 

I thanks you for de 'tention you hab gib dis after- 
noon; 

Sister Williams will oblige us by a raisin' ob a 
tune. 

I see dat Brudder Johnson's gwine to pass around 
de hat ; 

Don't let's hab no half-way doin's when it comes 
to dat. 

Irwin Russell. 

THE KAILHOAD CROSSING. 

I can't tell much about the thing, 'twas done so 

powerful quick, 
But 'pears to me I got a most outlandish heavy 

lick ; 
It broke my leg, and tore my skulp, and jerked 

my arm most out. 
But take a seat : I'll try and tell jest how it kem 

about. 

You see, I'd started down to town, with that 'ere 

team of mine, 
A-haulin' down a load o' corn to Ebenezer Kline 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 881 

And drivin' slow ; for, jest about a day or two 

before, 
The off-horse run a splinter in his foot, and made 

it sore. 

You know the railroad cuts across the road at 

Martin's Hole : 
Well, thar I seed a great big sign, raised high 

upon a pole ; 
I thought I'd stop and read the thing, and find 

out what it said, 
And so I stopped the hosses on the railroad-track, 

and read. 

I ain't no scholar, rekollect, and so I had to 

spell : 
I started kinder cautious like, with K-A-I- and L ; 
And that spelt "rail" as clear as mud ; E-O-A-D 

was "road." 
I lumped 'em: "railroad" was the word, and 

that 'ere much I knowed. 

C-K-0 and double S, with I-N-G to boot, 
Made " crossing" jest as plain as Noah Webster 

dared to do't. 
" Railroad crossing " — good enough ! — L double- 

O-K, "look;" 
And I was lookin' all the time, and spellin' like 
a book. 

O-U-T spelt "out" jest right; and there it was, 

" look out :" 
I's kinder cur'us, like to know jest what 'twas all 

about ; 



332 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

F-O-K and T-H-E; 'twas then "look out for 

the—" 
And then I tried the next word; it commenced 

with E-N-G. 

I'd got that fur, when suddintly there came an 

awful whack ; 
A thousand fiery thunderbolts just scooped me 

off the track ; 
The hosses went to Davy Jones, the wagon went 

to smash, 
And I was h'isted seven yards above the tallest 

ash. 

I didn't come to life ag'in fur 'bout a day or two ; 
But, though I'm crippled up a heap, I sorter 

struggled through ; 
It ain't the pain, nor 'tain't the loss o' that 'ere 

team of mine ; 
But, stranger, how I'd like to know the rest of 
that ere sign ! 

Hezekiah Strong. 

THE GBAND IMPOSITION HOTEL. 

From the first minute I had give a thought to 
goin' to see the Sentinal, my idee had been to git 
boarded up in a private house. And I had my 
eye (my mind's eye) upon who was willin' and 
glad to board us. The Editor of the Auger'ses 
wife's sister's husband's cousin boarded folks for 
a livin' : she was a Dickey and married to a 
Lampheare. The Editor of the Auger'ses wife 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 

told ine early in the spring that if she went she 
should go through the Sentinal to her sister's, 
and she happened to mention Miss Lampheare 
and the fact that she boarded up folks for a livin'. 
So when we decided to go, I told her when sli<>, 
wrote to her sister to ask her to ask Miss Lam- 
pheare if she was willin' to board Josiah and me, 
and how much she would ask for the boards. 
She wrote back ; her terms was moderate and in- 
side of our means, and my mind was at rest. I 
almost knew that Josiah would want to throw 
himself onto his relatives through the Sentinal, 
but the underpinnin' was no firmer and rockier 
under our horse-barn than the determination of 
her that was Samantha Smith not to encamp 
upon a 2nd cousin. We had quite a lot of re- 
lations a-livin' out to Filadelfy, — though we never 
seen 'em, — sort o' distant, such as 2nd cousins, 
and so 4th, till they dwindled out o' bein' any 
relations at all ; descendants of the Daggets and 
Kidds, — Grandmother Allen was a Kidd, — no re- 
lation of old Captain Kidd. No ! if any of his 
blood had been in my Josiah's veins, I would 
have bled him myself, if I had took a darnin'- 
needle to it. No ! the Kidd'ses are likely folks, 
as I have heerd, and Josiah was rampant to go to 
cousin Sam Kidd's (a captain in the late war) 
through the Sentinal. But again I says to him, 
calmly and firmly, — 

" No ! Josiah Allen, no ! anything but bringin' 
grief and trouble onto perfect strangers jest be- 
cause they happened to be born second cousin to 



334 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

you, unbeknown to 'em ;" and I repeated with 
icy firmness, — for I see he was a-hankerin' awful- 
ly, — " Josiah Allen, I will not encamp upon Cap- 
tain Kidd through the Sentinal." 

No ! Miss Lampheare was my theme and my 
gole, and all boyed up with hope we arrove at 
her dwellin' -place. Miss Lampheare met us at 
the door herself. She was a tall spindlin'-look- 
in' woman, one that had seen trouble, — for she 
had always kep' boarders, and had had four hus- 
bands, and buried 'em in a row, her present one 
bein' now in a decline. When I told her who I 
was, she met me with warmth and said that any 
friend of she that was Alminy Dickey was dear 
to her. But friendship, let it be ever so ardent, 
cannot obtain cream from well-water, or cause 
iron bedsteads to stretch out like Injy Eubber. 
She had expected us sooner, if we come at all, 
and her house was overflowin', every bed, lounge, 
corner, and cupboard being occupied, and the 
buro and stand drawers made up nightly for chil- 
dren. 

What was we to do? Night would soon let 
down her cloudy mantilly upon Josiah and me, 
and what was to become of us ? Miss Lampheare 
seemed to pity us, and she directed us to a friend 
of hers ; that friend was full ; he directed us to 
another friend ; that friend was over-flowin'. And 
so it went on till we was almost completely tired 
out. 

At last Josiah come out of a house, where he 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 335 

Lad been seekin' rest and lindin' it not ; Bays 
lie, — 

" They said mebbe we could git a room at tho 
'Grand Imposition Hotel.'" So we started ofl 
there, Josiah a-scoldin' every step of the way, and 
a-sayin', — 

11 1 told you jest how it would be. We ort to 
have gone to Captain Kidd's." 

I didn't say nothin' back on the outside, for I 
see by his face that it was no time for parley. 
But my mind was firm on the inside, to board in 
grocery-stores, and room under my umberell, be- 
fore I threw myself onto a perfect stranger 
through the Sentinal. 

But a recital of our agony of mind will be of 
little interest to the gay, and only sadden the 
tender-hearted ; and suffice it to say, in an hour's 
time we was a-follerin' the hired man to a room 
in the " Grand Imposition Hotel." 

Our room was good enough, and big enough 
for Josiah and me to turn round in one at a time. 
It had a bed considerable narrer, but good and 
healthy, — hard beds are considered healthy by 
the best of doctors, — a chair, a lookin' -glass, and 
a washstand. Josiah made a sight of fun of that, 
because it didn't have but three legs. 

But says I, firmly, " That is one more than 
you have got, Josiah Allen." I wouldn't stand 
none of his foolin'. . . . 

When we eat supper we had a considerable 
journey to the dinin'-room, which looked a good 
deal on the plan of Miss Astor'ses, with lots of 



336 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

colored folks a-goin' round, a-waitin' on the hun- 
gry crowd. I didn't see the woman of the house, 
— mebby she was laid up with a headache, or had 
gone out for an afternoon's visit, — but the colored 
waiters seemed to be real careful of her property ; 
they'd catch a teaspoon right out of their pocket 
and put it in your tea ; she couldn't have kep' a 
closer grip on her teaspoons herself. 

I can truly say, without stretching the truth the 
width of a horsehair, that the chambermaid was 
as cross as a bear, for every identical thing I asked 
her for was a extra, — she couldn't do it without 
extra pay; but she did git me some ice-water 
once, without askin' me a cent extra for it. After 
we got to bed Josiah would lay and talk. He 
would speak out all of a sudden : 

" Grand Imposition Hotel !" 

And I'd say, " What of it ? What if it is ?" 

And then he'd say, " They have got a crackin' 
good name, Sam an thy. I love to see names that 
mean sunthin'." And then he'd ask me if I re- 
membered the song about Barbara Allen, and if 
it would hurt my feelin's if he should lay and sing 
a verse of it to me, the bed put him in mind of 
it so. 

I asked him what verse ; but there was that in 
my tone that made him say no more about singin' : 
he said it was the verse where Barbara wanted 
her mother to have her coffin made " long and nar- 
rer." And then he'd begin again about the pil- 
lars, and say how he wished he'd brought a 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND BBOJTA HON, 

couple of feathers from home to lay on, so he 
could have got some rest. 

He had pulled out a little wad of cotton-battm' 
before Ave went to bed, to convince me of their 
ingredients. 

But I says to him, " Josiah Allen, a easy con- 
science can rest even on cotton-battin' pillars," 
and I added, in awful meanin' tones, "/ am 
sleepy, Josiah Allen, and want to go to sleep. 
It is time," says I, with dignity, "that we was 
both reposin' in the arms of Morphine." 

Nothin* quells him down quicker than to have 
me talk in a classical high-learnt way, and in a 
few minutes he was fast asleep. 

[Mosquitoes and general misery kept Samantha awake till 
morning, when tbey sallied forth to do the Centennial.] 

At last we reached the piazza, and emerged in- 
to the street. I see that every man, woman, and 
child was there in that identical street, and I 
thought to myself, there ain't no Sentinal to-day, 
and everybody has come out into this street for a 
walk. I knew it stood to reason that if there had 
been a Sentinal there would have been one or two 
men or wimmen attendin' to it, and I knew that 
every man, woman, and child on the hull face of 
the globe was right there before me, and behind 
me, and by the side of me, and fillin' the street 
full, walkin' afoot, and up in big covered wagons, 
all over 'em, on the inside, and hangin' on to the 
outside, as thick as bees a-swarmin'. Some of 
the horses was hitched ahead of each other, I 



338 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

s'pose so they could slip through the crowd 
easier. I couldn't see the village hardly any, 
owin' to the crowd a-crushin' of me ; but, from 
what little I did see, it was perfectly beautiful. 
I see they had fixed up for us : they had white- 
washed all their door-steps and winder-blinds 
white as snow, and trimmed the latter all off with 
black ribbon-strings. 

Everything looked lovely and gay, and I 
thought, as I walked along, Jonesville couldn't 
compare with it for size and grandeur. I was 
a-walkin' along, crowded in body but happy in 
mind, when all of a sudden a thought come to 
me that goared me worse than any elbo or um- 
berell that had pierced my ribs sense we sot out 
from the tavern. Thinks'es I all of a sudden, 
mebbe they have put off the Sentinal till I come ; 
mebbe I have disappointed the Nation, and be- 
lated 'em, and put 'em to trouble. 

This was a sad thought, and wore on my mind 
considerable, and made me almost forget for the 
time bein' my bodily sufferin's as they pushed 
me this way and that, and goared me in the side 
with parasols and umberells, and carried off the 
tabs of my mantilly as far as they would go in 
every direction, and shoved, and stamped, and 
crowded. I declare, I was tore to pieces in mind 
and body, when I arrove at last at the entrance 
to the grounds. The crowd was fearful here, and 
the yells of different kinds was distractive : one 
conceited little creeter catched right holt of the 
tabs of my mantilly, and yelled right up in 
my face, " Won't you have a guide? Buy a guide, 



SELECTIONS Foil URADINQ AND BB0ITAT10N. 

mom, to the Sentinal." And seven or eight 
others was a-yellin' the same thing to me, the 
impudent creeters : I jest turned round and faced 
the one that had got holt of 1113- cape, and s;i\ s 

1- 

" Leggo of my tabs !" 

11 He wouldn't leggo ; he stood and yelled out 
right up in my face, " Buy a guide : you hain't 
got no guide !" 

Says I, with dignit}-, " Yes, I have ; duty is my 
guide, and also Josiah; and now," says I firmly, 
"if you don't leggo of my tabs, I'll make yon 
leggo." My mean skairt him ; he leggo, and I 
follered on after my Josiah ; but where teas Jo- 
siah ? I couldn't see him ; in tusslin' with that 
impudent creeter over my cape, my companion 
had got carried by the crowd out of my sight 
Oh, the agony of that half a moment ! I turned 
and says to a policeman in almost agonizin' 
tones, — 

" Where is my Josiah ?" 

He looked very polite at me, and says he, — 

" I don't know." 

Says I, " Find him for me instantly ! Have 
you the heart to stand still and see husbands and 
wives parted away from each other? Have you 
any principle about you ? Have you got entire- 
ly out of pity ?" 

Says he, with the same polite look, ° I don't 
know." 

"Have you a wife ?" says I, in thrilling axents. 
"Have you any children?" 

Says he, " I don't know." 



340 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

I had heerd that there wasn't no information 
to be extracted from them as a class, and I give 
up ; and I don't know what my next move would 
have been if I hadn't catched sight of that beloved 
face and that old familiar hat in front of me ; I 
hastened forred and kep' considerable calm in 
mind, while my body was being crowded and 
pushed round, for I thought if my conjectures 
was true they would have reason enough to goar 
me. 

[Samantha and Josiah have no small trouble in learning the 
art of paying their way into the Centennial, and the feelings 
of the latter are outraged at being called an " adult" by the 
gate-keeper. He doesn't relish being "called names" by a 
ticket-seller. At length they get over the difficulty.] 

We handed our fifty cents to a man, and he 
dropped it down through a little slit in a counter ; 
and a gate that looked some like my new-fash- 
ioned clothes-bars sort o' turned round with us 
and let us in one at a time ; and the minute I was 
inside I see that my gloomy f orebodin's had been 
in vain : they hadn't put off the Sentinal for me ! 
That was my first glad thought ; but my very 
next thought was, Good land ! and Good land ! 
and Good land ! Them was my very first words, 
and they didn't express my feelin's a half or even 
a quarter. Why, comin' right out of that con- 
tracted and crushin' crowd, it seemed as if the 
place we found ourselves in was as roomy and 
spacious as the desert of Sarah, s'posin' she, the 
desert, was fixed off into a perfect garden of beau- 
ty, free for anybody to wander round and git 
lost in. 



SELECTIONS FOR HEADING AND BE( ITATlo.W. 341 

And the majestic Main Building that nearly 
loomed up in front of us ! Why ! if old Oci&u 
herself had turned into glass, and wood-work, 
and cast iron, and shinin' ruffs, and towers, and 
flags, and statues, and everything, and made a 
glitterin' palace of herself, it couldn't (as it were) 
have looked any more grand and imposin' and 
roomy ; and if every sand by the sea-shore had 
jumped up and put on a bunnet or hat, as the 
case may be, there couldn't have been a bigger 
crowd (seemingly) than there was passin' into it, 
and a-passin' by, and a-paradin' round Josiah 
and me. 

Under these strange and almost apaulin' cir- 
cumstances, is it any wonder that I stood stun 
still, and said, out of the very depths of my heart, 
the only words I could think of that w r ould any- 
where nigh express my feelin's, and they was 
" Good land !" 

But as my senses began to come back to me, 
my next thought was, as I looked round on every 
side of me, " Truly did my Josiah say that I 
would see enough with one eye ;" and jest then a 
band commenced playin' the " Star- Spangled 
Banner." And hearing that soul-stirrin' music, 
and seein' that very banner a-wavin' and floatin' 
out, as if all the blue sky and rainbows sense 
Noah's rainbow was cut up into its glorious 
stripes, with the hull stars of heaven a-shinin' on 
'em, — why, as my faculties come back to me, 
a-seein' what I see, and heerin' what I heerd, I 
thought of my 4 fathers, them 4 old fathers, 
whose weak hands had first unfurled that banner 



342 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

to the angry breeze, and thinks'es I, I would be 
willin' to change places with them 4 old men 
right here on the spot, to let them see in the 
bright sunshine of 1876 what they done in the 
cloudy darkness of 1776. 

Marietta Holley. 

PKOM THE HONEYMOON. 

Duke. You are welcome home. 

Jul. Home ! You are merry ; this retired spot 
Would be a palace for an owl ! 

Duke. "lis ours. — 

Jul. Ay, for the time we stay in it. 

Duke. By Heaven, 
This is the noble mansion that I spoke of ! 

Jul,. This ! — You are not in earnest, though you 
bear it 
With such a sober brow. Come, come, you jest. 

Duke. Indeed I jest not ; were it ours in jest, 
We should have none, wife. 

Jul. Are you serious, sir ? 

Duke. I swear, as I'm your husband, and no 
duke. 

Jul. No duke? 

Duke. But of my own creation, lady. 

Jul. Am I betrayed ? Nay, do not play the fool I 
It is too keen a joke. 

Duke. You'll find it true. 

Jul. You are no duke, then ? 

Dulce. None. 

Jul. Have I been cozened ? 
And have you no estate, sir ? 
No palaces, nor houses ? 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 

Duke. None but this : — 
A small snug dwelling, and in good repair. 

Jul. Nor money, nor effects ? 

Duke. None that I know of. 

Jul. And the attendants who have waited on us? 

Duke. They were my friends ; who, having 
done my business, 
Are gone about their own. 

Jul. Why, then, 'tis clear. — 
That I was ever born ! — What are you, sir ? 

Duke. I am an honest man, that may content 
you. 
Young, nor ill-favored, should not that content 

you? 
I am your husband, and that must content you. 

Jul. I will go home ! 

Duke. You are at home already. 

Jul. I'll not endure it ! — But remember this : 
Duke, or no duke, I'll be a duchess, sir ! 

Duke. A duchess I You shall be a queen — 
to all 
Who, by the courtesy, will call you so. 

Jul. And I will have attendance ! 

Duke. So you shall, 
When you have learned to wait upon yourself. 

Jul. To wait upon myself! Must I bear this ? 
I could tear out my eyes, that bade you woo me, 
And bite my tongue in two, for saying yes / 

Duke. And if you should, 'twould grow again. 
I think, to be an honest yeoman's wife 
(For such, my would-be duchess, you will find me), 
You were cut out by nature. 

Jul. You will find, then, 



344 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

That education, sir, has spoilt me for it. 
Why ! do you think I'll work ? 

Duke, I think 'twill happen, wife. 

Jul. What ! Eub and scrub 
Your noble palace clean ? 

Duke. Those taper fingers 
Will do it daintily. 

Jul. And dress your victuals 
(If there be any) ? — Oh ! I could go mad ! 

Duke. And mend my hose, and darn my night- 
caps neatly ; 
Wait, like an echo, till you're spoken to — 

Jul. Or like a clock, talk only once an hour ? 

Duke. Or like a dial ; for that quietly 
Performs its work, and never speaks at all. 

Jul. To feed your poultry and your hogs ! — 
Oh, monstrous ! 
And when I stir abroad, on great occasions 
Carry a squeaking tithe pig to the vicar ; 
Or jolt with higglers' wives the market trot 
To sell your eggs and butter ! 

Duke. Excellent ! 
How well you sum the duties of a wife ! 
Why, what a blessing I shall have in you ! 

Jul. A blessing ! 

Duke. When they talk of you and me, 
Darby and Joan shall no more be remembered : — 
We shall be happy ! 

Jul. Shall we? 

Duke. Wondrous happy ! 
Oh, you will make an admirable wife ! 

Jul. I will make a vixen. 

Duke. What? 



SELECTIONS FOR UKAMNU AND RECITATION 

Jul. A very vixen. 

Duke. Oh, no ! We'll have BO Yixens. 

Jul. I'll not bear it ! 
I'll to my father's — 

Duke. Gently : you forget 
You are a perfect stranger to the road. 

Jul. My wrongs will find a way, or make one. 

Duke. Softly! 
You stir not hence, except to take the air ; 
And then I'll breathe it with you. 

Jul. What, confine me? 

Duke. 'Twould be unsafe to trust you yet 
abroad. 

Jul. Am I a truant schoolboy ? 

Duke. Nay, not so ; 
But you must keep your bounds. 

Jul. And if I break them 
Perhaps you'll beat me ? 

Duke. Beat you ! 
The man that lays his hand upon a woman, 
Save in the way of kindness, is a wretch 
Whom 'twere gross flattery to name a coward. — 
I'll talk to you, lady, but not beat you. 

Jul. Well, if I may not travel to my father, 
I may write to him, surely ! — And I will — 
If I can meet within your spacious dukedom 
Three such unhoped-for miracles at once, 
As pens, and ink, and paper. 

Duke. You will find them 
In the next room. — A word, before you go : 
You are my wife, by every tie that's sacred ; 
The partner of my fortune — 

Jul. Your fortune ! 



346 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Duke, Peace ! — No fooling, idle woman ! 
Beneath th' attesting eye of Heaven I've sworn 
To love, to honor, cherish, and protect you. 
No human power can part us. What remains, 

then ? 
To fret, and worry, and torment each other, 
And give a keener edge to our hard fate 
By sharp upbraidings and perpetual jars ? 
Or, like a loving and a patient pair 
(Waked from a dream of grandeur, to depend 
Upon their daily labor for support), 
To soothe the taste of fortune's lowliness 
With sweet consent and mutual fond endear- 
ment ? 
Now to your chamber — write whate'er you please; 
But pause before you stain the spotless paper 
With words that may inflame, but cannot heal ! 

Jul. Why, what a patient worm you take me 
for! 

Duke. I took you for a wife ; and ere I've done, 
I'll know you for a good one. 

Jul. You shall know me 
For a right woman, full of her own sex ; 
Who, when she suffers wrong, will speak her 

anger ; 
Who feels her own prerogative, and scorns, 
By the proud reason of superior man, 
To be taught patience, when her swelling heart 
Cries out revenge ! [Exit. 

Duke. Why, let the flood rage on ! 
There is no tide in woman's wildest passion 
But hath an ebb. — I've broke the ice, however. — 
Write tp her father !— She may write a folio. — 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 347 

But if she send it ! — 'Twill divert her spleen : 
The flow of ink may save her blood-letting. 
Perchance she may have fits ! — They are seldom 

mortal, 
Save when the Doctor's sent for. 
Though I have heard some husbands say, and 

wisely, 
A woman's honor is her safest guard, 
Yet there's some virtue in a lock and key. 
So, thus begins our honeymoon. — 'Tis well ! 
For the first fortnight, ruder than March winds, 
She'll blow a hurricane. The next, perhaps, 
Like April she may wear a changeful face 
Of storm and sunshine : and when that is past, 
She will break glorious as unclouded May ; 
And where the thorns grew bare, the spreading 

blossoms 
Meet with no lagging frost to kill their sweet- 
ness. 
"Whilst others, for a month's delirious joy, 
Buy a dull age of penance, we, more wisely, 
Taste first the wholesome bitter of the cup, 
That after to the very lees shall relish ; 
And to the close of this frail life prolong 
The pure delights of a well-governed marriage. 

John Tobin, 

JOHN GILPIN'S RIDE. 

John Gilpin was a citizen of credit and renown ; 

A train-band captain eke was he, of famous Lon- 
don town. 

John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, " Though 
wedded we have been 



348 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE. ELOCUTION. 

These twice ten tedious years, yet we no holiday 
have seen. 

"To-morrow is our wedding-day, and we shall 
then repair 

Unto the Bell at Edmonton, all in a chaise-and- 
pair. 

My sister and my sister's child, myself and chil- 
dren three, 

Will fill the chaise : so you must ride on horse- 
back after we." 

He soon replied, "I do admire, of womankind, 

but one, 
And you are she, my dearest dear, therefore it 

shall be done. 
I am a linen-draper bold, as all the world doth 

know, 
And my good friend the calender will lend his 

horse to go." 

Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, " That's well said ; and, for 

that wine is dear, 
We will be furnished with our own, which is both 

bright and clear." 
John Gilpin kissed his loving wife : o'erjoyed was 

he to find 
That, though on pleasure she was bent, she had 

a frugal mind. 

The morning came ; the chaise was brought, but 

yet was not allowed 
To drive up to the door, lest all should say that 

she was proud. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 349 

So three doors off the chaise was stayed, where 

they did all get in, — 
Six precious souls, and all agog to dash through 

thick and thin ! 

Smack went the whip, round went the wheels ; 

were never folks so glad ; 
The stones did rattle underneath, as if Cheapside 

were mad. 
John Gilpin, at his horse's side, seized fast the 

flowing mane, 
And up he got, in haste to ride, but soon came 

down again ; 

For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, his jour- 
ney to begin, 

When, turning round his head, he saw three cus- 
tomers come in. 

So down he came ; for loss of time, although it 
grieved him sore, 

Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, would trouble 
him much more. 

'Twas long before the customers were suited to 
their mind, 

"When Betty screaming came down-stairs, " The 
wine is left behind !" 

"Good lack!" quoth he; "yet bring it me, my 
leathern belt likewise, 

In which I wear my trusty sword, when I do ex- 
ercise." 

Now, Mrs. Gilpin (careful soul !) had two stone 

bottles found, 
To hold the liquor that she loved, and keep it 

safe and sound ; 



350 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Each bottle had a curling ear, through which the 
belt he drew, 

And hung a bottle on each side, to make his bal- 
ance true. 

Then over all, that he might be equipped from 
top to toe, 

His long red cloak, well brushed and neat, he 
manfully did throw. 

Now see him mounted once again upon his nim- 
ble steed, 

Full slowly pacing o'er the stones with caution 
and good heed. 

But finding soon a smoother road beneath his 

well-shod feet, 
The snorting beast began to trot, which galled 

him in his seat. 
" So ! fair and softly !" John he cried ; but John 

he cried in vain ; 
The trot became a gallop soon, in spite of curb 

and rein. 

So, stooping down, as needs he must who cannot 

sit upright, 
He grasped the mane with both his hands, and 

eke with all his might. 
His horse, who never in that sort had handled 

been before, 
What thing upon his back had got did wonder 

more and more. 

Away went Gilpin, neck or naught ; away went 
hat and wig ; 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 351 

He little dreamed, when he set out, of running 
such a rig. 

The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, like stream- 
er long and gay, 

Till, loop and button failing both, at last it flew 
away. 

Then might all people well discern the bottles he 

had slung ; 
A bottle swinging at each side, as hath been said 

or sung. 
The dogs did bark, the children screamed, up 

flew the windows all, 
And every soul cried out, " Well done !" as loud 

as he could bawl. 

Away went Gilpin, who but he ! his fame soon 
spread around, 

" He carries weight ! He rides a race ! 'Tis for 
a thousand pound I" 

And still, as fast as he drew near, 'twas wonder- 
ful to view 

How in a trice the turnpike-men their gates wide 
open threw. 

And now, as he went bowing down his reeking 
head full low, 

The bottles twain, behind his back, were shat- 
tered at a blow. 

Down ran the wine into the road, most piteous 
to be seen, 

Which made his horse's flanks to smoke, as they 
had basted been. 



352 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

But still he seemed to carry weight, with leather 

girdle braced, 
For all might see the bottle-necks still dangling 

at his waist. 
Thus all through merry Islington these gambols 

he did play, 
And till he came unto the Wash of Edmonton so 

gay- 

And there he threw the Wash about on both 

sides of the way, 
Just like unto a trundling-mop, or a wild goose 

at play. 
At Edmonton his loving wife, from the balcony, 

spied 
Her tender husband, wondering much to see how 

he did ride. 

" Stop, stop, John Gilpin ! here's the house !" 
they all aloud did cry ; 

The dinner waits, and we are tired !" Said Gil- 
pin, "So ami!" 

But yet his horse was not a whit inclined to tarry 
there ; 

For why? his owner had a house full ten miles 
off, at Ware. 

So like an arrow swift he flew shot by an archer 

strong, 
So did he fly, — which brings me to the middle of 

my song. 
Away went Gilpin, out of breath, and sore against 

his will, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 353 

Till at Lis friend the calender's his horse at last 
stood still. 

The calender, amazed to see his friend in such a 

trim, 
Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, and thus 

accosted him : 
" What news ? What news ? Your tidings tell ! 

Tell me you must and shall ! 
Say why bare-headed you are come, — or why you 

come at all." 

Now, Gilpin had a pleasant wit, and loved a 

timely joke, 
And thus unto the calender in merry guise he 

spoke : 
" I came because your horse would come ; and, 

if I well forbode, 
My hat and wig will soon be here ; they are upon 

the road !" 

The calender, right glad to find his friend in 

merry pin, 
Eeturned him not a single word, but to the house 

went in, 
Whence straight he came with hat and wig, — a 

wig that flowed behind, 
A hat not much the worse for wear, — each comely 

in its kind. 

He held them up, and in his turn thus showed 
his ready wit : 

" My head is twice as big as yours : they there- 
fore needs must fit. 



354 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

But let me scrape the dirt away that hangs upon 
your face ; 

And stop and eat, for well you may be in a hun- 
gry case." 

Said John, " It is my wedding-day, and all the 

world would stare 
If wife should dine at Edmonton and I should 

dine at "Ware." 
So, turning to his horse, he said, " I am in haste 

to dine ; 
t Twas for your pleasure you came here, you shall 

go back for mine." 

Ah, luckless speech and bootless boast ! for which 

he paid full dear ; 
For, while he spake, a braying ass did sing most 

loud and clear, 
Whereat his horse did snort as he had heard a 

lion roar, 
And galloped off with all his might, as he had 

done before. 

Away went Gilpin, and away went Gilpin's hat 

and wig : 
He lost them sooner than at first ; for why ? — 

they were too big. 
Now, Mistress Gilpin, when she saw her husband 

posting down 
Into the country far away, she pulled out half a 

crown, 

And thus unto the youth she said that drove 
them to the Bell, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 355 

" This shall be yours when you bring back my 

husband safe and well." 
The youth did ride, and soon did meet John 

coming back amain, 
Whom in a trice he tried to stop, by catching at 

his rein ; 

But, not performing what he meant, and gladly 
would have done, 

The frighted steed he frighted more, and made 
him faster run. 

Away went Gilpin, and away went post-boy at 
his heels, 

The post-boy's horse right glad to miss the lum- 
bering of the wheels. 

Six gentlemen upon the road, thus seeing Gilpin 

%, 

With post-boy scampering in the rear, they raised 

the hue and cry : 
" Stop thief ! Stop thief !— a highwayman !" — 

not one of them was mute, 
And all and each that passed that way did join 

in the pursuit. 

And now the turnpike gates again flew open in 

short space, 
The toll-men thinking, as before, that Gilpin rode 

a race. 
And so he did, and won it too, for he got first to 

town, 
Nor stopped till where he had got up he did 

again get down. 



356 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Now let us sing, " long live the king," and Gil- 
pin, long live he, 

And when he next doth ride abroad may I be 
there to see. 

William Cowper. 

A PBOFITABLE SHOT. 

Tom Sheridan used to tell a story for and 
against himself, which we shall take leave to re- 
late. 

He was staying at Lord Craven's, at Benham 
(or rather Hempstead), and one day proceeded 
on a shooting-excursion, like Hawthorn, with 
only " his dog and his gun," on foot, and unat- 
tended by companion or keeper. The sport was 
bad, the birds few and shy, and he walked and 
walked in search of game, until unconsciously he 
entered the domain of some neighboring squire. 
A very short time after he perceived advancing 
towards him, at the top of his speed, a jolly, com- 
fortable-looking gentleman, followed by a ser- 
vant, armed, as it appeared, for conflict. Tom 
took up a position, and waited the approach of 
the enemy. 

"Halloo! you, sir," said the squire, when 
within half ear-shot, " what are you doing here, 
sir, eh?" 

" I'm shooting, sir," said Tom. 

" Do you know where you are, sir ?" said the 
squire. 

" I'm here, sir," said Tom. 



SELECTIONS FOli HEADING AND RECITATION 357 

" Here, sir !" said the squire, growing angry ; 
" and do you know where here is, sir ? These, 
sir, are my manors : what d'ye think of that, 
sir?" 

" Why, sir, as to your manners," said Tom, " I 
can't say they seem over-agreeable." 

" I don't want any jokes, sir," said the squire : 
" I hate jokes. Who are you, sir ? — what are 

you ?" 

" Why, sir," said Tom, " my name is Sheridan ; 

I am staying at Lord Craven's ; I have come out 
for some sport ; I have not had any, and am not 
aware that I am trespassing." 

" Sheridan !" said the squire, cooling a little ; 
" oh, from Lord Craven's, eh ? Well, sir, I could 
not know that, sir, I — " 

" No, sir," said Tom, " but you need not have 
been in a passion." 

" Not in a passion, Mr. Sheridan !" said the 
squire ; " you don't know what these preserves 
have cost me, and the pains and trouble I have 
been at with them. It's all very well for you to 
talk, but if you were in my place I would like to 
know what you would say upon such an occa- 
sion." 

" Why, sir," said Tom, " if I were in your 
place, under all the circumstances, I should say, 

I I am convinced, Mr. Sheridan, you did not 
mean to annoy me ; and as you look a good deal 
tired, perhaps you will come up to my house and 
take some refreshment.'" 

The squire was hit hard by this nonchalance, 



358 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

and (as the newspapers say), " it is needless to 
add," acted upon Sheridan's suggestion. 

" So far," said poor Tom, " the story tells for 
me. Now you shall hear the sequel." 

After having regaled himself at the squire's 
house, and having said five hundred more good 
things than he swallowed, having delighted his 
host, and more than half won the hearts of his 
wife and daughter, the sportsman proceeded on 
his return homewards. 

In the course of his walk he passed through a 
farm-yard : in the front of the farm-house was a 
green, in the centre of which was a pond, in the 
pond were ducks innumerable, swimming and 
diving ; on its verdant banks a motley group of 
gallant cocks and pert partlets, picking and feed- 
ing : the farmer was leaning over the thatch of 
his barn, which stood near two cottages on the 
side of the green. 

Tom hated to go back with an empty bag ; 
and, having failed in his attempts at higher game, 
it struck him as a good joke to ridicule the ex- 
ploits of the day himself, in order to prevent any 
one else from doing it for him ; and he thought 
that to carry home a certain number of the do- 
mestic inhabitants of the pond and its vicinity 
would serve the purpose admirably. Accord- 
ingly, up he goes to the farmer, and accosts him 
very civilly : 

" My good friend," says Tom, " I'll make you 
an offer." 

" Of what, sir?" says the farmer. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 359 

" Why," replies Tom, " I have been out all day 
fagging after birds, and haven't had a shot ; now, 
both my barrels are loaded, I should like to take 
home something : what shall I give you to let me 
have a shot with each barrel at those ducks and 
fowls, — I standing here, and to have whatever I 
kill ?" 

" What sort of a shot are you ?" said the 
farmer. 

"Fairish," said Tom; "fairish." 

" And to have all you kill ?" said the farmer, 
"eh?" 

" Exactly so," said Tom. 

" Half a guinea," said the farmer. 

" That's too much," said Tom. " I'll tell you 
what I'll do : I'll give you a seven-shilling piece, 
which happens to be all the money I have in my 
pocket." 

" Well," said the man, " hand't over." 

The payment was made ; Tom, true to his bar- 
gain, took his post by the barn door, and let fly 
with one barrel, and then with the other ; and 
such quacking and splashing and screaming and 
fluttering had never been seen in that place be- 
fore. 

Away ran Tom, and, delighted at his success, 
picked up first a hen, then a chicken, then fished 
out a dying duck or two, and so on, until he 
numbered eight head of domestic game, with 
which his bag was nobly distended. 

" Those were right good shots, sir," said the 
farmer. 



360 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" Yes," said Tom ; " eight ducks and fowls are 
more than you bargained for, old fellow, — worth 
rather more, I suspect, than seven shillings, — 
eh ?" 

" Why, yes," said the man, scratching his head, 
" I think they be ; but what do I care for that ? 
they are none of mine /" 

" Here," said Tom, " I was for once in my life 
beaten, and made off as fast as I could, for fear 
the right owner of the game might make his ap- 
pearance ; not but that I could have given the 
fellow that took me in seven times as much as I 
did, for his cunning and coolness." 

George A. Sola, 



LADY CLAKE. 

It was the time when lilies blow, 
And the clouds are highest up in air, 

Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe 
To give his cousin, Lady Clare. 

I trow they did not part in scorn ; 

Lovers long betrothed were they : 
They two will wed the morrow morn ; 

God's blessing on the day ! 

" He does not love me for my birth, 
Nor for my lands as broad and fair ; 

He loves me for my own true worth, 
And that is well," said Lady Clare. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 301 

In there came old Alice the nurse, 

Said, " Who was this that went from thee?" 
"It was my cousin," said Lady Clare, 

"To-morrow he weds with me." 

" O God be thanked !" said Alice the nurse, 
" That all comes round so just and fair, 

Lord Konald is heir of all your lands, 
And you are not the Lady Clare." 

" Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse?" 
Said Lady Clare, " that ye speak so wild ?" 

"As God's above," said Alice the nurse, 
" I speak the truth ; you are my child." 

" The old earl's daughter died at my breast ; 

I speak the truth as I live by bread ; 
I buried her like my own sweet child, 

And put my child in her stead." 

" Falsely, falsely have ye done, 

O mother," she said, " if this be true, 

To keep the best man under the sun 
So many years from his due." 

" Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, 
" But keep the secret for your life, 

And all you have will be Lord Eonald's, 
When you are man and wife." 

" If I'm a beggar born," she said, 
" I will speak out, for I dare not lie. 

Pull off, pull off the broach of gold, 
And fling the diamond necklace by." 



362 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, 
" But keep the secret all ye can." 

She said " Not so : but I will know 
If there be any faith in man." 

" Nay now, what faith ?" said Alice the nurse, 
" The man will cleave unto his right." 

" And he shall have it," the lady replied, 
" Tho' I should die to-night." 

" Yet give one kiss to your mother dear ! 

Alas, my child, I sinned for thee." 
" O mother, mother, mother," she said, 

" So strange it seems to me. 

" Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear, 

My mother dear, if this be so, 
And lay your hand upon my head, 

And bless me, mother, ere I go." 

She clad herself in a russet gown, 

She was no longer Lady Clare, 
She went by dale and she went by down, 

With a single rose in her hair. 

The lily-white doe Lord Konald had brought 

Leapt up from where she lay, 
Dropt her head in the maiden's hand 

And followed her all the way. 

Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower, 
" Lady Clare, you shame your worth, 

Why come you drest like a village maid, 
That are the flower of the earth?' 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 363 

" If I come drest like a village maid, 

I am but as my fortunes are ; 
I am a beggar born," she said, 

"And not the Lady Clare." 

" Play me no tricks," said Lord Konald, 
" For I am yours in word and deed ; 

Play me no tricks," said Lord Eonald, 
"Your riddle is hard to read." 

Oh, and proudly stood she up ; 

Her heart within her did not fail : 
She looked into Lord Konald's eyes 

And told him all her nurse's tale. 

He laughed a laugh of merry scorn, 
He turned and kissed her where she stood. 

" If you are not the heiress born, 
And I," said he, " the next of blood," 

" If you are not the heiress born, 

And I," said he, "the lawful heir, 
We two will wed to-morrow morn, 

And you shall still be Lady Clare." 

Tennyson. 



THE TAMING OF BUCEPHALUS. 

" Bring forth the steed!" It was a level plain, 

Broad and unbroken as the mighty sea 

When in their prison-caves the winds lie 

chained. 
There Philip sat, pavilioned from the sun ; 



364 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

There, all around, thronged Macedonia's hosts, 
Bannered, and plumed, and armed— a vast array ! 
Then Philip waved his sceptre. Silence fell 
O'er all the plain. 'Twas but a moment's pause ; 
" Obey my son, Pharsalian! bring the steed !" 
The monarch spoke. A signal to the grooms, 
And on the plain they led Bucephalus. 
"Mount, vassal, mount! "Why pales thy cheek 

with fear ? 
" Mount ! — ha ! art slain ? Another : mount 

again !" 
'Twas all in vain. No hand could curb a neck, 
Clothed with such might and grandeur, to the 

rein. 
No thong or spur could make his fury yield. 
Now bounds he from the earth; and now he 

rears — 
Now madly plunges — strives to rush away, 
Like that strong bird, his fellow-king of air ! 

Then Alexander threw 
His light cloak from his shoulders, and drew 

nigh. 
The brave steed was no courtier ; prince and 

groom 
Bore the same mien to him. He started back ; 
But with firm grasp the youth retained, and 

turned 
His fierce eyes from his shadow to the sun. 
Then, with that hand, in after times which hurled 
The bolts of war among embattled hosts, 
Conquered all Greece, and over Persia swayed 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 3C5 

Imperial command — which on Fame's temple 
Graved, Alexander, Victor of the World ! — 
With that bold hand he smoothed the flowing 

mane, 
Patted the glossy skin with soft caress, 
Soothingly speaking in low voice the while, 
Lightly he vaulted to his first great strife. 
How like a Centaur 1 looked the steed and youth ! 
Firmly the hero sat ; his glowing cheek 
Flushed with the rare excitement : his high brow 
Pale with a stern resolve : his lip as smiling, 
And his glance as calm, as if, in dalliance, 
Instead of danger, with a girl he played. 
Untutored to obey, how raves the steed ! 
Champing the bit, and tossing the white foam, 
And struggling to be free, that he might dart, 
Swift as an arrow from a shivering bow. 
The rein is loosened. " Now, Bucephalus !" 
Away ! away ! — he flies, away — away ! 
The multitude stood hushed, in breathless awe, 
And gazed into the distance. 

Lo ! a speck — 
A darksome speck, on the horizon ! 'Tis — 
'Tis he ! Now it enlarges ; now are seen 
The horse and rider ; now, with ordered pace, 
The horse approaches, and the rider leaps 



1 The first men who tamed horses and rode them were sup- 
posed to be part of the horse, and were called Centaurs. Pres- 
cott, in his History of the Conquest of Mexico, says that the 
Mexicans, who had never seen a horse before, made the same 
mistake in regard to the cavalry of the Spanish invaders. 



366 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Down to the earth, and bends his rapid pace 
Unto the king's pavilion. The wild steed, 
Unled, uncalled, is following his subduer. 
Philip wept tears of joy : " My son, go seek 
A larger empire ; for so vast a soul 
Too small is Macedonia!" 

Park Benjamin, 

ANNE HATHAWAY. 

Once on a time, when jewels flashed, 
And moonlit fountains softly splashed, 
And all the air was sweet and bright 
With music, mirth, and deft delight, 
A courtly dame drew, laughing, near 

A poet — greatest of his time, 
And chirped a question in his ear, 

With voice like silver bells in chime : 
" Good Mr. Shakespeare, I would know 

What name thy lady bore, in sooth, 
Ere thine. Nay, little time ago 

It seems — for we still mark her youth ; 
Some high-born name, I trow, and yet, 
Although I've heard it, I forget." 
Then answered he with dignity, 
Yet blithely, for the hour was gay, 
" My Lady's name ? Anne Hathaway." 

"And good, sweet sir," the dame pursued, 
Too fair and winsome to be rude, 
" 'Tis whispered here, and whispered there, 
By doughty knights and ladies fair, 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 367 

That — that — well, that her loyal lord 

Doth e'en obey her slightest will. 
Now, my good lord — I pledge my word — 

Though loving well, doth heed me ill ; 
How art thou conquered, prithee, tell," 

She pleaded with her pretty frown ; 
" I fain would know what mighty spell 

Can bring a haughty husband down." 
She ceased, and raised her eager face 
To his, with laughing, plaintive grace. 
Then answered he with dignity, 
Yet blithely, for the hour was gay, 
" Ah, Lady ! I can only say 
Her name again — Anne Hath-a-way." 

THE INQUIKY. 

Tell me, ye winged winds, that round my path- 
way roar, 

Do ye not know some spot where mortals weep 
no more ? 

Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in the 
west, 

Where, free from toil and pain, the weary soul 
may rest ? 
The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, 
And sighed for pity as it answered — " No." 

Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows round 

me play, 
Know'st thou some favored spot, some island far 

away, 



368 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Where weary man may find the bliss for which 

he sighs — 
Where sorrow never lives, and friendship never 
dies? 
The loud waves rolling in perpetual flow 
Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer — 
"No." 

And thou, serenest moon, that, with such lovely 

face, 
Dost look upon the earth, asleep in night's em- 
brace, 
Tell me, in all thy round, hast thou not seen 

some spot 
Where miserable man might find a happier lot ? 
Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe, 
And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded — 
" No." 

Tell me, my secret soul — oh, tell me, Hope and 

Faith, 
Is there no resting-place from sorrow, sin and 

death ?— 
Is there no happy spot where mortals may be 

blessed, 
Where grief may find a balm, and weariness a 
rest ? 
Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals 

given, 
Waved their bright wings, and whispered — 
"Yes, in heaven!" 

Charles Maclcay. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RE VITA TION S KJ9 



THE LAUNCHING OF THE SHIP. 

At j. is finished ! and at length 

Has come the bridal day 

Of beauty and of strength. 

To-day the vessel shall be launched ! 

With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched, 

And o'er the bay, 

Slowly, in all his splendors dight, 

The great sun rises to behold the sight. 

The ocean old, 

Centuries old, 

Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled, 

Paces restless to and fro, 

Up and down the sands of gold. 

His beating heart is not at rest ; 

And far and wide, 

With ceaseless flow, 

His beard of snow 

Heaves with the heaving of his breast. 

He waits impatient for his bride. 

There she stands, 

With her foot upon the sands, 

Decked with flags and streamers gay, 

In honor of her marriage day, 

Her snow-white signals fluttering, blending, 

Eound her like a veil descending, 

Heady to be 

The bride of the gray, old sea. 



370 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Then the Master, 

With a gesture of command, 

"Waved his hand ; 

And at the word, 

Loud and sudden there was heard, 

All around them and below, 

The sound of hammers, blow on blow, 

Knocking away the shores and spurs. 

And see ! she stirs ! 

She starts, — she moves, — she seems to feel 

The thrill of life along her keel, 

And, spurning with her foot the ground, 

With one exulting, joyous bound, 

She leaps into the ocean's arms ! 

And lo ! from the assembled crowd 

There rose a shout, prolonged and loud, 

That to the ocean seemed to say, 

" Take her, O bridegroom, old and gray, 

Take her to thy protecting arms, 

With all her youth and all her charms !" 

How beautiful she is ! how fair 

She lies within those arms, that press 

Her form with many a soft caress 

Of tenderness and watchful care ! 

Sail forth into the sea, O ship ! 

Through wind and wave, right onward steer ! 

The moistened eye, the trembling lip, 

Are not the signs of doubt or fear. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 371 

Thou, too, sail on, ship of State ! 
Sail on, O Union, strong and great ! 
Humanity, with all its fears, 
With all the hopes of future years, 
Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 
We know what Master laid thy keel, 
What workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, 
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 
What anvils rang, what hammers beat, 
In what a forge, and what a heat, 
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope ! 

Fear not each sudden sound and shock ; 

'Tis of the wave, and not the rock ; 

'Tis but the flapping of the sail, 

And not a rent made by the gale. 

In spite of rock and tempest roar, 

In spite of false lights on the shore, 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! 

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, 

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 

Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, 

Are all with thee — are all with thee ! 

Longfellow. 

THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OP LUSrCOUSTSHIKE. 

(1571.) 

The old mayor climbed the belfry tower, 

The ringers ran by two, by three ; 
" Pull, if ye never pulled before ; 

Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he, 



372 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

" Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells ! 
Ply all your changes, all your swells, 
Play uppe ' The Brides of Enderby.' " 

Men say it was a stolen tyde — 

The Lord that sent it, He knows all ; 

But in myne ears doth still abide 
The message that the bells let fall : 

And there was naught of strange, beside 

The flight of mews and peewits pied 

By millions crouched on the old sea wall. 

I sat and spun within the doore, 

My thread break off, I raised myne eyes ; 

The level sun, like ruddy ore, 
Lay sinking in the barren skies ; 

And dark against day's golden death 

She moved where Lindis wandereth, 

My Sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth. 

" Cusha ! Cusha ! Cusha !" calling, 
Ere the early dews were falling, 
Farre away I heard her song, 
" Cusha ! Cusha !" all along ; 
Where the reedy Lindis floweth, 

Eloweth, floweth, 
From the meads where melick groweth 
Faintly came her milking song.* 

* ' 'An important section of Scandinavian songs are the herds- 
men's. Their age it is impossible to state, but they all bear the 
same character. The herdsman or maiden calls home the 
cattle from the mountain-side, either with the cow-horn or 
Lur, or by singing a melody, with the echo formed on the 
intervals of that instrument. " — Grove. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION 373 

Andante. 



£ 



« 



:8. 



— •^zi 



P. 



Cu 



sha! cu - sha! cu - sha! cu - sha! 



is^li^i^^^ 



^=& 



For 



the dews will soone be fal - ling; 



t*te 



£ 



5 



Leave 



your mea - dow grass 



es mel - low, 
dim. 






Quit 



your cow - slips, 
ores. 



cow - slips yel - low. 



mm 



r± 



:ftp: 






^==t 



Come 
Come 



uppe, White - foot, 
uppe, White - foot, 



come uppe, Light - foot, 
come uppe, Light - foot, 



tsz zj w 



C?'£S. 



£^ 



:£* 



Quit 
Quit 



the stalks of 
the stalks of 



pars - ley hoi - low; 
pars - ley hoi - low; 



#i 



3=t 



i 



: *l 



11=*: 



Come 
Come 



uppe, Jet 
uppe, Jet 



ty, rise and fol - low, 
ty, rise and fol - low, 



tzr 



m^^^m 



From 


the 


clo ■ 


■ vers 


lift 


your 


head. 


Jet - 


ty 


to 


the 


milk 


- mg 


shed. 



374 CORRECT A2H) EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

If it be long, ay, long ago, 

When I beginne to think howe long, 
Againe I hear the Lindis flow, 

Swift as an arrowe, sharpe and strong ; 
And all the aire, it seemeth mee, 
Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee), 
That ring the tune of Enderby. 

Alle fresh the level pasture lay, 
And not a shadowe mote be seene, 

Save where full fyve good miles away 

The steeple towered from out the greene ; 

And lo ! the great bell farre and wide 

Was heard in all the country side 

That Saturday at eventide. 

The swanherds where their sedges are 
Moved on in sunset's golden breath, 

The shepherde lads I heard afarre, 
And my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth ; 

Till floating o'er the grassy sea 

Came downe that kyndly message free, 

The " Brides of Mavis Enderby." 

Then some looked uppe into the sky, 
And all along where Lindis flows 

To where the goodly vessels lie, 
And where the lordly steeple shows. 

They sayde, " And why should this thing be ? 

What danger lowers by land or sea ? 

They ring the tune of Enderby ! 

" For evil news from Mablethorpe, 
Of pyrate galleys warping down ; 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 375 

For sliippes ashore beyond the scorpe, 

They have not spared to wake the towne ; 
But while the west bin red to see, 
And storms be none, and pyrates flee, 
Why ring * The Brides of Enderby ?' " 

I looked without, and lo ! my sonne 

Came riding downe with might and main : 

He raised a shout as he drew on, 
Till all the welkin rang again, 

" Elizabeth ! Elizabeth !" 

(A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath 

Than my Sonne's wife Elizabeth.) 

" The olde sea wall (he cried) is downe, 

The rising tide comes on apace, 
And boats adrift in yonder towne 

Go sailing uppe the market-place." 
He shook as one that looks on death : 
" God save you, mother!" straight he saith ; 
" Where is my wife, Elizabeth?" 

" Good sonne, where Lindis winds her way, 
With her two bairns I marked her long ; 

And ere young bells beganne to play 
Afar I heard her milking song." 

He looked across the grassy lea, 

To right, to left, " Ho, Enderby !" 

They rang " The Brides of Enderby I" 

With that he cried and beat his breast ; 

For lo ! along the river's bed 
A mighty eygre reared his crest, 

And uppe the Lindis raging sped. 



376 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

It swept with thunderous noises loud ; 
Shaped like a curling snow-white eloud, 
Or like a demon in a shroud. 

And rearing Lindis backward pressed 

Shook all her trembling bankes amaine ; 
Then madly at the eygre's breast 

Flung uppe her weltering walls again 
Then bankes came downe with ruin and rout — 
Then beaten foam flew round about — 
Then all the mighty floods were out. 

So farre, so fast the eygre drave, 
The heart had hardly time to beat 

Before a shallow seething wave 
Sobbed in the grasses at our feet : 

The feet had hardly time to flee 

Before it brake against the knee, 

And all the world was in the sea. 

Upon the roofe we sate that night, 
The noise of bells went sweeping by ; 

I marked the lofty beacon light 

Stream from the church tower, red and high— 

A lurid mark and dread to see ; 

And awesome bells they were to mee, 

That in the dark rang " Enderby." 

They rang the sailor lads to guide 

From roofe to roofe who fearless rowed ; 

And I — my sonne was at my side, 
And yet the ruddy beacon glowed ; 



SELECTIONS FOR READING AND RECITATION. 377 

And yet lie moaned beneath his breath, 
" O come in life, or come in death ! 

lost! my love, Elizabeth." 

And didst thou visit him no more ? 

Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare ; 
The waters laid thee at his cloore, 

Ere yet the early dawn was clear. 
Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace, 
The lifted sun shone on thy face, 
Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place. 

That flow strewed wrecks about the grass, 
That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea ; 

A fatal ebbe and flow, alas ! 

To manye more than myne and mee : 

But each will mourn his own (she saith) ; 

And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath 

Than my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth. 

1 shall never hear her more 
By the reedy Lindis shore, 
"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha !" calling, 
Ere the early dews be falling ; 

I shall never hear her song, 
" Cusha ! Cusha !" all along 
Where the sunny Lindis floweth, 

Goeth, floweth ; 
From the meads where melick groweth, 
When the water, winding down, 
Onward floweth to the town. 



378 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

I shall never see her more 

Where the reeds and rushes quiver, 

Shiver, quiver ; 
Stand beside the sobbing river 
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling 
To the sandy lonesome shore ; 
I shall never hear her calling, 
" Leave your meadow grasses mellow, 

Mellow, mellow ; 
Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow ; 
Come uppe, Whitefoot, come uppe, Lightfoot ; 
Quit your pipes of parsley hollow, 

Hollow, hollow ; 
Come uppe, Lightfoot, rise and follow ; 

Lightfoot, Whitefoot, 
From your clovers lift the head : 
Come uppe, Jetty, follow, follow, 
Jetty, to the milking shed." — Jean Ingelow. 

THE BELL OP ZANORA. 

The ruddy sun was setting behind the Murchian 
hills, 

The fields were warmed to splendor and golden 
flowed the rills. 

Across the little valley, where lay the Spanish 
town, 

The dying sun's last blessing, a glory, floated 
down. 

Amid the fields the peasants led in the grazing 
kine, 

And faintly came a tinkling as trudged the peace- 
ful line. 



SELECTIONS FOli READING AND RECITATION. 379 

Upon the height the convent, a ruin old and gray, 
Towered upward, and its shadow across the val- 
ley lay. 
Before that ancient ruin, prone on the scented 

grass, 
A boy of fifteen summers watched day's bright 

glory pass : 
The lad was there on duty and oft about him 

scanned. 
Zanora feared the coming of robber Gomez's 

band ; 
Of Gomez, fierce and heartless, the terror of the 

vale, 
Whose name made women shudder and bravest 

men grow pale. 
Unto the town a rumor that Gomez fierce would 

come 
And sack the peaceful hamlet made stoutest 

hearts all dumb. 
The peasants cleaned their firelocks, the women 

watched and prayed 
That the band of robber Gomez upon its path be 

stayed. 
Yet time wore on, and scathless still stood the 

little town, 
But from its ancient convent a watcher still looked 

down. 
For clear from 'neath its portals each roadway 

might be scanned, 
And there from morn till night they watched for 

Gomez's band. 



380 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

The old bell of the convent within its tower still 

hung, 
Its ropes with dangling curves seemed waiting 

to be rung, 
For if a sight of Gomez came to the watcher there, 
He straight would let the old bell with warning 

fill the air, 
Unto the town a signal to rally fast and stand, 
And, ready for the onslaught, beat back the rob- 
ber band. 
This day was Eooe watcher until the sun hung 

low, 
And then, with watching wearied, he lay and 

gazed below. 
He watched the smoke that floated above his 

mother's cot. 
To him the grazing cattle seemed each a moving 

dot. 
Faint from the bustling village came murmurs 

low and deep ; 
The bells far off did tinkle ; the lad lay fast asleep. 
Asleep he lay, but not for long — he woke ; a 

grimy hand 
Pressed his mouth! His wrists were bound! 

Around him Gomez's band ! 
They dragged him to the convent ; cried Gomez, 

"Kope this fool!" 
Then 'neath the rope they placed him, kneeling 

upon a stool. 
Around his neck so slender the snaky bell-rope's 

fold 
They fastened. Then cried Gomez, " That bell 

won't soon be tolled I 



SELECTIONS FOli HEADING AND RECITATION. 381 

Come on, lads, there's work below ; this fool ain't 

to be hung, 
By the saints ! yet hang he will before that bell 

is rung !" 
The robbers laughed and vanished, and Eooe was 

left alone 
"With one thought ever stinging — he must his 

fault atone. 
The rope his throat was galling, his corded 

wrists were numb, 
Poor Rooe's burning thoughts alone could freely 

go and come : 
The helpless souls, the bell above, the black band 

creeping down. 
Over his brow the drops rolled fast — he must 

arouse the town 1 
That rope, he well remembered, his strength had 

often tried, 
And all his weight to move it he knew must be 

applied. 
He thought of home and mother, of Carmen, 

sweet and fair, 
Then, with one sob of anguish, he sprang into 

the air ! 

The robber band was creeping down the steep 

incline 
With Chieftain Gomez leading the dark, exulting 

line. 
" They're ours," the bandit chuckled, " it's time 

to make the charge," 
And then the robbers halted upon the hill-top's 

marge. 



382 CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. 

Bed Gomez drew his sabre, and then — What was 

that sound ? 
Bom ! Bom ! The convent tocsin ! It fairly shook 

the ground. 
Bom ! Bom ! Pale grew the robbers, yet Gomez 

cried, "Advance!" 
Too late, the town was rousing, and lost the ban- 
dit's chance. 
Some scattering shots! The robbers fled over 

the hill- top's crown. 
Bom ! tolled the bell yet fainter — saved was the 

little town. 
Straight upward strode the peasants, up to the 

convent tower, 
Before them sways a something — from which the 

bravest cower ; 
Bom ! clanged the bell yet fainter, and with the 

passing toll 
Its dying sob bore upward the hapless Booe's 

soul. 
They took him down with wailing, and bitter 

tears were shed, 
For he who saved Zanora, mute as its bell — was 

dead. 

W. R. Rose. 



Printed by Benzigeb Bros., New York. 



